Lead Me Through the Fire
by LuckyLadybug
Summary: Duke Devlin is a loner by nature. But while trying to solve his attempted murder, he is forced both to work with people and push people away. The experience is changing him, but is it for the better ... or the worse?
1. Fallen

**Yu-Gi-Oh!**

**Lead Me Through the Fire**

**By Lucky_Ladybug**

**Notes: The characters are not mine and the story is! For those who remember my older fics on this character, this one renders at least one of them (**_**Where Will You Go?**_**) as not canon to my timeline. (Also, it seems to assume that the events of **_**Home for the Holidays**_** did not happen, as you will see.) I prefer the anime on almost every point, except Duke Devlin's introduction. The cheerleaders, dog costume, and national TV humiliation were blights on his character that should not have existed. The manga version of Duke's introduction portrayed him in a much more sympathetic light, and for my timeline I've chosen to use a version of it as his backstory, with a few tweaks here and there to make it compatible to the anime. Also, David is a real character on the show, but he is unnamed (and is so in both versions, it seems). He is in episode 46, speaking with Duke near the beginning. It seems clear to me that they have known each other for a while, and hence, I've devised a backstory for them. Many thanks to Crystal Rose, Kaze, and anyone who has provided plot help!**

**Chapter One**

**Fallen**

The eighteen-year-old entrepreneur gave a weary sigh as he unlocked the driver's door of his classic turquoise convertible and slid into the seat. Shutting the door behind him, he off-handedly tossed several manilla folders into the passenger seat before inserting the key into the ignition and bringing the engine to life.

He gave a cursory glance to the gathering clouds through the windshield. There had been reports of rain, but as long as it was not starting, he planned to leave the hood down. He liked the feel of the breeze blowing through his raven hair; it gave him a sensation of being free while still having control over his life.

And at the moment, he felt in desperate need of such a feeling. Everything had been spiraling out of control for several weeks now. The folders he had just thrown onto the passenger seat told it all.

He had been stunned when he had opened a crate to do a routine inspection of the store's incoming merchandise and had discovered a small sack containing a white powder. At first he had thought it had been a mistake. But then he had stumbled upon a diamond and a second sack of powder in another crate. That had been when he had decided to lay in wait to see what would happen to those mysterious, unordered items. And he found, much to his displeasure, that they had been sent for---only not by him.

It just so happened that his store was being used as the center of a very successful smuggling ring. Jewels and drugs alike were coming in and going out, usually via ships. He had determined the identities of several of those involved and fully intended to bring them down.

But there were other aspects to this mess that only made it all the worse. He had learned through cryptic statements made by the smugglers that they were working with someone on the outside, possibly even a corrupt police officer. And not knowing who it might be made it difficult to think of turning this information over to any law enforcement. What if he would be unlucky enough to end up speaking to the secret criminal? As far as he knew, the smugglers did not yet know that he had caught on to their scheme. If he revealed all he knew to the police and it turned out that it was the smugglers' ally whom he had informed, all would be over for him.

No---as far as he was concerned, he was on his own---once again.

It was impossible to stop his mind from reverting to things of the past as he maneuvered around the evening traffic.

Some part of his father had really loved him; he truly believed that. But the tortured man had been so caught up in his rage and hatred towards Solomon Muto that he had let it destroy him as well as his relationships with his family. His sometimes-violent mood swings had frightened both his wife and their child. He had believed that their son's only purpose in life was to deliver the revenge he had sought for so many years. And his wife had finally left in despair, fading from existence. Her son had looked for her before, without luck. Whether or not she was deceased, she was dead to him. She had abandoned him when he had still been a young boy, leaving him to deal with his father by himself.

Not that he did not understand why she had left. He had wanted to himself, so many times. But he had not trusted his father to be on his own, not with his hatred having pushed him towards insanity. And he had loved and pitied the tormented man. He had wanted to help him. He had taken on his father's sadness and anger, vowing to get revenge for him.

But he had also wanted the Millennium Puzzle. All his life his father had drilled into him not only the story of his need for revenge against the Mutos, but the tales of the Millennium Puzzle and its ability to grant the one who solved it the power to become the King of Games. He had wanted that power. His father had always told him that he was the only one worthy of holding it. And while he had not necessarily believed that deep down, he had still desired it anyway.

He was not sure why. Maybe, he had thought, if he could complete his father's revenge and solve the Puzzle himself, he would be able to bring honor to the family name. Maybe he had just wanted to be the best. Or maybe he had been tired of always living in the shadow of his father's thoughts of revenge.

Maybe it had just sounded like an exciting legend to chase.

In any case, he had long carried the guilt of having tried to help his father bring about his retribution to the Mutos. He had decided to strike out on his own shortly before that, which had been a source of some contention between him and his father. But though he had still been intrigued by the Millennium Puzzle, he had resolved not to wait around to get hold of it before beginning his quest to make something of himself. Using the money from the success of the game he had then created, had ordered construction of a game shop that he was to own.

His father had come to him then, pointing out that he was in a perfect position to enact the long-awaited revenge on Solomon Muto by defeating his grandson Yugi and laying claim to the Millennium Puzzle. By that time, his son had already observed Yugi in school and had held conflicting thoughts about the plan. But his loyalty to his father---as well as his continuing interest in the Puzzle---had in the end taken precedence over doubts.

He never should have done it. Once the plan had gotten underway, and as his father had sank deeper and deeper into the depths of insanity, he had started to realize exactly what he had gotten them into. But by that time, it had been too late to get out.

He had tried, helping Yugi pick up the pieces after his father had shattered the Millennium Puzzle, and then outright refusing to assist the man any further when he had tried to strangle Yugi with the Puzzle's chain. His father had disowned him, both for that and for losing the Dungeon Dice Monsters game to Yugi. The crushing words were still ringing in his ears.

_"The only reason you existed was to take revenge for me! Now that you've failed, you're no longer my son. You're not even worthy to live!"_

Had it just been years of building madness talking? Or had his father truly felt like that? He would never know. He had been left alone once more.

He had vowed never to be used by anyone else ever again. And for a while, he had succeeded. He had built a thriving business in Domino City and had even joined Yugi and the others on several bizarre adventures to save the world from various enemies.

They had already been a close-knit group, and though they had welcomed him, he had felt a bit like an intruder. At the same time, he had never known people so devoted to each other no matter what happened. He had been jealous, even envious, of their friendships when he had observed them after first moving into the neighborhood.

And there were likely other reasons why he had never felt completely comfortable around them. Maybe it was lingering guilt for what he had done in the past, despite the fact that they had all---he thought---forgiven him. Maybe it was the insecurities he hid deep down. He used a facade of self-confidence and a bit of arrogance, which sometimes he actually believed. The real reason he had flirted with girls so often was that it had made him feel good, at least for a while. He had liked the positive attention and he had liked pleasing them. And since they had always moved on before long, he had never had to worry about growing close to them and needing to reveal any of the secrets he kept hidden.

He had never had to let anyone know he was lonely. It would sound ridiculous to say such a thing, especially when he had always kept people at arm's length.

His father had belittled friendship to no end, drilling it into him from an early age that he only needed and could rely on himself. And the man had used not only feeling betrayed by Solomon Muto, but his own wife's departure, as perfect illustrations of the fact. Even their neighbors, the Tanakas, had not felt at ease in their home, despite his father being polite around them. The only boy, David, had tried to strike up a friendship anyway---but he had been forbidden---by both families. Still, they had stayed in touch over the years, enough so that David had been offered the position of store manager when the Black Crown had opened. But though he had been a practical businessman and had not led the store wrong, he had some greedy tendancies. For all the store owner knew, maybe David had aligned himself with the smugglers. That was not something he had been able to determine yet---though he was inclined to believe that David was honest and would not betray him.

He would not tell Yugi and the others of his problems, even if he felt like going to them for help. The last thing he wanted to do was to get them mixed up in a mess like this, and of course if he told them, they would come rushing to give their aid. Then they likely would all be hurt. No, this was something he had to take care of on his own. He had been alone most of his life; it should not be hard to operate solo now.

His eyes narrowed in annoyance as a raindrop landed on his nose, followed by another. Up ahead, on the freeway, it looked like it was pouring. Muttering to himself, he reached and flipped the switch that controlled the canvas top. It whirred to life, making its way over the framework until it came to rest against the top of the windshield. But the rain was still coming inside. He rolled up the windows, sealing himself within the vehicle.

Without warning, the radio clicked to life. Immediately he looked to it, a deep and suspicious frown coming over his features. That was _not_ supposed to happen.

_"Greetings, Duke Devlin."_

He nearly slammed on the brakes in shock. That was not the radio; it was a cassette! And the electronically-altered voice on the recording was mocking him.

_"You think you've been careful. Unfortunately for you, we have eyes and ears in locations you apparently did not consider. And not only do we know all that you have discovered, we know that you have not told a soul. Therefore, once we have eliminated you, there will be no one to stop us."_

Now an ominous ticking had filled the car. He gripped the steering wheel, staring at the clock on the radio. It was counting down---_15, 14, 13_. . . .

"Oh God," he whispered. There was a bomb in his car. It must have activated when he had closed off all escape routes. And he would never be able to get out, let alone to get the vehicle away from all the other innocent people on the freeway, before it went up in flames.

He glared at the slippery road ahead. At the moment, there were no other cars directly ahead of him in this lane. If he could shoot forward, towards the point where there was no guardrail at the top of a hill, maybe he would be able to keep anyone else from being hurt. A speeding ticket would hardly matter now.

He pulled hard on the lever as he pressed on the accelerator with all his might. Somewhere to his side, a horn blared angrily as its owner was prevented from changing lanes. He ignored it, his heart pounding in his ears.

He was going to die. There was no way out of it now; he had less than ten seconds before detonation.

And . . . was it all in vain? Would the information he had gathered against the smugglers be lost? There was another copy, one that he had already hidden somewhere else, but would anyone ever find it?

The recording was still mocking him.

_"It's a shame for you that you didn't tell anyone, really. What does that mean? Was there no one you trusted enough? No one who cared enough about you to help? Not that it matters. You lived alone and you'll die alone, Duke Devlin. But there'll be plenty of witnesses."_

He gritted his teeth. The car was coming up on the hill now while other horns continued to honk behind him, their owners in disbelief.

"No," he choked out under his breath. "That's not it. It was . . ."

The explosion shook the vehicle, instantly blowing it to pieces.

One woman screamed, stumbling out of her own car in horror. Shattered glass and twisted metal had flown in all directions, tumbling across the highway and shooting down the hill, the flames igniting the dead grass and the weeds.

A small square object turned over itself, rolling to a stop at the woman's feet. She stood frozen, unable to make herself move to grab for it. She just kept staring.

What it looked like was the charred remains of a six-sided die.

****

_Duke Devlin dead._

Within thirty minutes the car had been identified from a license plate that someone had seen before it had exploded, and within an hour the police were certain that Duke Devlin had been the driver, based on several descriptions as well as the car's known ownership. His erratic behavior immediately prior to the explosion had been explained as a desperate attempt to save everyone else on the freeway from the devastation. He was being hailed as a hero and mourned as one taken far too soon.

It was a concern that he had seemed to know the car was going to detonate. Had there been something drastically wrong with it? Or could one of the darker possibilites considered be the actual truth? Could Duke Devlin have been murdered?

Gabrielle Valesquez feared it was the latter. Her partner, on the other hand, believed that something had been amiss with the car. After all, who would want to kill Duke Devlin? What would anyone have to gain from such an act?

Those were questions that no one could answer.

But all across Domino City, the news spread. And those who had known Duke were stunned.

A boy with multi-colored hair stared at the television screen in disbelief, his violet eyes wide. He shut them tightly, several tears slipping free.

A blond boy was also staring. His sister was going to take this hard. He himself could scarcely comprehend. Almost without him realizing, a fist clenched.

A brown-haired boy leaped up, throwing an empty soda can at the television before running outside to his motorcycle and revving the engine as he leaped aboard. It could not be true. It could _not._

A brunet girl set down her pen, whispering a horrified "Oh no! It can't be!" as her heart raced.

And a girl with auburn hair collapsed on her bed in heartbroken tears.

****

David Tanaka slumped into a chair, shaken. Slowly he removed his glasses, raising his thumb and forefinger to rub at his eyes. He would not be surprised if he was still pale, as the police had told him he had been. Ever since they had come to question him, hoping he might know of some possible suspects in his boss's death, he had felt like he was in a daze.

Duke Devlin was dead? He had not believed it when they had first told him. When he had turned on the television and they had been reporting on a car explosion on the freeway, he had nearly dropped the remote control. There was not even enough left in the ashes to make a positive identification, but over a dozen witnesses had described a driver that had looked like Duke.

_"Am I a suspect?"_ David had asked the police.

_"For now, until we know more, everyone is,"_ they had replied.

But he would never have hurt Duke.

They had grown up on the same street, and despite having been forbidden to hang out together, David had still managed to sneak time in with Duke. He had seen the younger kid as a little brother and had teased him accordingly, calling him "Dukey-boy" though they were only a couple of years apart in age. And though Duke had initially been annoyed by it, he had eventually grown used to David's sense of humor. In recent years he had not batted an eye at the good-natured ribbing.

He had always been the more serious of the two. David had suspected that not all was right at home, but Duke had never admitted to anything. David doubted Duke would have said a word about it even if he had ended up badly beaten, and sometimes David had worried wondering if that had actually been the case. Once or twice he had seen Duke sporting a strange and mysterious bruise that he had tried to hide. That had not happened since the failed attempt to take the Millennium Puzzle.

As far as David was concerned, Duke had been better off without his father. David had seen a change come over Duke when he had determined to find his own path and had then invented Dungeon Dice Monsters. He had become more confident and more bold. It was not just a facade, and yes, he was quite aware of the barriers Duke had built around his heart and soul. He had been so determined to keep people out because he had wanted to handle his problems himself---probably stemming from his confusion and pain over his mother deserting them. Unfortunately, he had kept people out a little too well. David had seen it clearly, but Duke had not.

And it was too late now.

The television was still on. David stared ahead at the screen, not really seeing it and yet registering the scene somewhere in his mind. The rain had put out the fire ages ago, and the crowd had been forced to move on. Now the freeway was closed while crews examined and gathered the wreckage. A helicopter captured the sight from above, its propellers whirring and chopping through the night air.

David fumbled for the remote, snapping off the television. He could not watch any more right now. He was still trying to process that his childhood friend, his surrogate brother, that stubborn Dukey-boy, was really gone. There was not even a body for a funeral. And in fact, hadn't Duke mentioned that he would put in his will something about only wanting a simple and private gravesite service? He had not wanted a big deal made out of his death.

David had found it morbid to have a will ready at age eighteen, but Duke had thought it necessary. Seto Kaiba had one, he knew, and he had written it up when he had been younger than Duke.

It was not common knowledge that Duke had written a will; he had only told David so that his manager would be prepared if anything happened. David knew next to nothing of the contents, only that Duke had finished the last draft only a few weeks earlier.

Had he thought something would happen? Maybe he had known that someone was after him. David clenched a fist, suddenly a bit angry. Duke should have told him, or someone, _anyone,_ instead of thinking he could handle everything himself. Now he was gone.

A thump at the front door nearly made him jump a mile. He frowned, leaping to his feet. Who would be coming at this time of the night? More to the point, who would be making such a commotion out of it? Probably just some prankster, but after the events of the evening, he was on edge. He opened the door with care, standing his ground in case someone tried to push their way inside.

Instead a gasp caught in his throat. A bloodied hand was sliding down the storm door, leaving several parallel crimson streaks on the glass. Another hand fumbled with the handle, finally pulling it open as several folders slipped from its grasp, spilling over the entryway. A ghost slumped forward, grasping at David's arms in desperation.

"David, please . . ." Glassy emerald eyes stared up at David's dark orbs. "Help me. . . ."

David was too stunned to do anything but stare. The wounded teenager fell to his knees and then the floor, sinking out of awareness.


	2. I've Tried My Best

**Notes: I have so much fun writing for these two. While the Japanese version portrays the character I've named David as little more than an idolizing fanboy, the dub gave him more spunk. I can easily imagine him teasing Duke like this. And since I write for the dub version where they're in America, Duke has a mixed heritage---both for story reasons and because, face it, he's one of the only characters who actually *looks* Japanese (even though I realize that in the original, most of the main cast was so). The alias he adopted is completely tongue-in-cheek on my part.**

**Chapter Two**

**I've Tried My Best**

_5, 4, 3. . . ._

_"No, that's not it. It was . . ."_

_2, 1. . . ._

_There was no time to finish his thought. In one moment his world erupted in indescribable pain and anguish as he and the car were blown apart by the blast. He was thrust free, flying into the air. But instead of impacting, he stayed there, hovering in the sky._

_"Hey!" he cried in disbelief. "I . . . I'm alright. I'm whole. . . ." He stared down at himself. He was all there, but . . . no, he was not. He had never been able to float before. Through his hand he could see the fiery deathtrap below. He was transparent._

_Now he trembled. "No," he gasped, shaking his head. "No, I can't die. I wasn't supposed to . . . !"_

_And there was no hope of even trying to return. Nothing was left of his body._

_He screamed in anguish, watching as pieces of the car frame were carried in all directions by the explosion._

_****_

_5, 4, 3. . . ._

_"No, that's not it. It was . . ."_

_The voice on the tape changed, the electronic cloak falling away. "Goodbye, Dukey-boy," David's voice said in glee. "It's too bad we have to part so soon, but I'm afraid keeping you around isn't good for business anymore. It's much more profitable to snuff you out and start over. I'll be taking over as the owner now."_

_Duke went pale. "David," he whispered. "No. . . . You betrayed me. . . ."_

_2, 1. . . ._

_The car burst into a fiery mass. He knew no more._

_****_

_5, 4, 3. . . ._

_"No, that's not it. It was . . ."_

_2, 1. . . ._

_Seemingly in one sweeping motion, he snatched the folders in one hand while throwing open the driver's door with the other. He fumbled with his seatbelt, exclaiming in frustration and panic when it stuck. At the last possible second it came loose and he dove out of the vehicle._

_The sound of the explosion was suddenly in his ears, echoing endlessly. The force of the blast pushed him through the air, his alarmed cry drowned by the heartless roar. Then he was falling, tumbling down the hill and into a small bush._

_For a moment he lay where he was, dazed. Had he really survived? By all counts, he should be dead. But his heart was pounding in his ears, far too frantic to be imagined. And the pain. . . . A warm liquid was oozing from his shoulder and running down his arm. Something was poking him in the chest. It felt like his clothes had been badly torn, too; part of his left leg was bare against the dying grass, the scratchy blades uncomfortable as they pressed against his raw skin._

_Shaking, he pushed himself half-off the ground, wincing as his hand stung. When he looked down at it, his stomach turned at the sight of the dark red spreading from underneath the palm. Was it infected?_

_More blood was dripping over his right eye. He had lost his bandanna in the fall, but he did not remember his forehead being cut. The wound felt superficial, though it was hurting like heck._

_His hair had mostly come out of its ponytail, falling loosely around his face and neck. He coughed, turning to look behind him at the wreckage._

_"They tried to kill me," he whispered. "They tried to __**kill**__ me!"_

_And until they could be caught, it would be safer for him to let them believe they had succeeded. He struggled to his feet, clutching the folders under his left arm. The fire was raging on all sides, having swiftly devoured the weeds up and down the hill. It leaped at him now, nipping at his face and arms as if daring him to defy it._

_His eyes narrowed with a cold determination. He would just have to fight his way through the blaze. He had to get out of here before anyone saw him._

_And then . . . where would he go? Home was out of the question. So was the store. And he did not want to go to Yugi or any of the others. Really, he could potentially be tracked down anywhere, if someone saw him. But he had to get help from someone. And he had to do it without drawing attention to himself._

_Maybe he would just have to start walking and see where he would end up._

_But first he would have to get past the fire. He staggered forward, struggling to keep the pressure off his left leg. He gasped as the flames blew out in front of him, burning his arms and catching onto his clothes._

_"No!" he cried, dropping to the grass as he fought to extinguish the blaze. His heart was racing faster, his wounds throbbing. But he forced himself up again, attempting a different path. There should still be a way out, if he could hurry. . . ._

_"You can never escape, Duke Devlin. Didn't I tell you?"_

_He gritted his teeth at the sound of the disembodied voice from the tape. "I'm going to anyway," he retorted. "And you can just go back to whatever pit you crawled out of."_

_"Actually . . . I'll be dragging you there with me."_

_He gasped as something took hold of his ankle. Immediately he looked down, his mouth dropping open in disbelief. A hand made of flames was clutching at him, sending the blaze up his leg and over the rest of his body. He screamed, the folders falling from his grasp as he burned alive._

His eyes flew open as he gasped, rising halfway off the couch. A quilt slipped from his shoulders and down to his waist, exposing his bare arms to the chill in the air. He barely noticed, instead staring around the room where he had been laying---and at himself.

He was still wearing the clothes from the accident, shredded and bloodstained---but his wounds had been carefully cleaned and bandaged. His right hand was hurting, a bit of blood coming through onto the gauze. His left leg ached where he had fallen on it, almost as if it was accusing him because of the pain.

He was alive. He had not been blown apart in the car explosion, nor had any mysterious enemy set fire to him on the hill. And . . . even though he could not know for sure because of the electronic garbling, he did not believe it had been David's voice on the tape. His mind was playing cruel tricks on him, still confused and trying to sort out what had actually happened tonight. And even though he did not want to admit how badly the attack on his life had emotionally damaged him, deep down he knew.

His shoulders slumped as he shuddered, leaning forward on the couch. His black hair fell around him, concealing his face and blocking his view of most everything except what was directly in front of his line of vision. He focused on the quilt, staring at it yet not really seeing it. He was seeing visions of the fire, feeling it searing into his back as he jumped. His throat constricted from the memory of the smoke entering his lungs.

He had been terrified that he was going to die.

He was not going back to that place. He would never go back.

"Duke?"

He gave a start at the familiar voice. David was standing in the doorway, regarding him in genuine concern. But as the older man saw the clear green eyes looking back at him, he relaxed. He stepped into the living room, a brief, good-natured smirk flashing across his features.

"So, Sleeping Beauty is finally awake," he commented.

Duke brushed back his loose hair with his left hand. "Ha ha," he responded. He was too emotionally drained to smirk in return and make a conceited-sounding reply.

David instantly sobered. "You know, you're in remarkably good condition for someone who's supposed to be in a million pieces right now," he said. "Duke, everyone thinks you're . . ."

"Dead. I kinda figured." Duke looked over at his store manager. He had wanted to believe that David was on his side, and surely this was the proof of it. If he was working for the enemy, he could have killed Duke when he had collapsed instead of tending to his wounds.

. . . Unless he was mixed up in the ring but had never wanted to go as far as killing Duke.

"The police were here asking questions," David told him. "They hoped maybe I'd know who would've done it."

Duke reached up, idly touching the gauze on his forehead. "And?"

"I told them the truth, I have no idea," David said. "But what about you?" He peered at the teen, crossing his arms. "You've been up to something the last few weeks, Dukey-boy. Don't think I haven't noticed."

Instead of answering, Duke looked away. The folders he had brought back with him were gathered on an end table next to a lamp. Would David have really not looked at them? Duke turned from them back to his manager, his expression unconvinced.

David looked back at him with a shrug. "Alright, I did a little snooping too," he said. "You know exactly why your car was wired with explosives, don't you. You could put away several of the most prominent people in the city with the ammo you've been collecting."

"That was the idea." Duke sighed, leaning against the couch. What was he going to do now? The smugglers---his would-be murderers---were still running free in the city. And how, exactly, was he going to bring them down when he was no longer among the living? He had collected some good evidence, but not enough. And now there were more charges to add to the list. He was going to have to prove them guilty of murder and attempted murder.

". . . I'm surprised you came here at all," David said. "Or anywhere, for that matter. When it comes to injuries and saying you're fine, you're almost as bad as Seto Kaiba. But tonight you even outright pleaded with me to help you."

"I didn't have much choice this time," Duke said. He did not even remember begging for help. He did recall very vaguely how he had staggered around the city, staying hidden in the shadows as he had looked for a place to go to treat his wounds. But while everything in his vision and his mind had gotten more fuzzy, he had continued to be concerned about possible infection. He had known he needed outside help this time. Still, he was almost as surprised as David must have been, that he had come here.

". . . So, how bad's the damage?" he asked now, glancing back down at his right hand.

"You got yourself pretty badly scraped up," David replied. "With some mild burns on your shoulders and back. And you gave yourself quite an unfriendly cut on your forehead, too. It wouldn't stop bleeding! But it doesn't look like it's too deep." He leaned back, watching as Duke processed the information. Even though he could not clearly see Duke's expression due to the loose mane of hair, he could tell just from the teen's body language that he was fatigued. Which was of course more than understandable. But there was something else, too---something he could not quite put his finger on yet.

"What's your plan now?" he wanted to know.

Duke looked up. "I'm bringing them down," he said.

Now David knew what else he had sensed. There was a coldness in Duke's tone that David had not heard for years. His eyes had hardened as well. David rocked back, not liking what he saw and heard. At the same time, it was most certainly understandable.

"My own employees have been running this ring behind my back," Duke went on. "They betrayed my trust. Tonight they tried to kill me. And now they're going to learn why they should have never messed with Duke Devlin."

"It sounds dangerous," David mused. "Are you going to let me in on it? Face it, Duke, you're going to need help."

Duke frowned. "I didn't want anyone to get involved," he said. Plus, there were the lingering doubts as to David's possible involvement, though he was trying to push them aside.

"Hey, I'm the manager," David said. "I could actually be a very valuable asset." He lowered his glasses. "Maybe I could even infiltrate their little operation and bring you inside information."

Duke raised an eyebrow. "They might not let you in," he said.

"Maybe not. But it's worth a try, don't you think?" David leaned back, studying his friend.

Duke averted his gaze. "It might work," he consented.

"And what about you? You can hardly go waltzing back in as yourself," David said. "What actually happens to your store now, anyway? Since you wrote that will, you must have had some idea."

"I did." Duke frowned, staring down at the quilt. This was the most critical test of his trust. When he had first started investigating these smugglers, he had devised a plan in case it would ever be necessary for Duke Devlin to disappear. He had told no one of it, for their safety as well as his own, but if he was going to let David help him now, David would have to know the details of that plan. Could he trust David that much?

. . . Could he afford not to?

". . . A couple of years ago, I went to Japan," he said at last.

David blinked in surprise. Offhand, this did not sound like it had any relevance to the topic, but there must be a connection. He waited and listened.

"My mom's from there, you know," Duke continued. "I went there to promote Dungeon Dice Monsters after Pegasus picked up the contract. But . . . well, I was hoping to kill two birds with one stone. I've always thought Mom probably went back there after leaving my father, so I wanted to look for her. I didn't want the paparazzi to find out, though. . . . They were already hounding me all over the U.S. So . . . I went incognito."

Now David was the one to raise an eyebrow. "Really," he said.

"I looked for her as a punk called Ryuuji Otogi," Duke said, looking back to him at last. "And I managed to get into the Tokyo branch of Industrial Illusions under that name." He sighed. "I couldn't find Mom, but I decided to keep the alias open in case I wanted to use it again. When I left Japan, I said I was going to go to school in America. And Ryuuji Otogi quietly disappeared."

He started absently twirling a piece of hair around his finger. ". . . When I started investigating this smuggling ring a few weeks ago, I found out that these creeps mean business. I've learned about others who've tried to stop them and ended up losing their lives. And I realized that if I got in too deep, they could find out about me and come after me, too. If that happened, I knew I'd have to disappear, probably fake my own death. So I wrote that will. In it, I said that my successor is Ryuuji Otogi."

David perked up. "I get it now," he said, intrigued by the workings of Duke's mind. "So you come back as some punk kid and no one's the wiser."

"I hoped, anyway," Duke said. "I also said that in the case of Ryuuji Otogi not being able to be located, ownership of the company would revert to Industrial Illusions. If he couldn't be found, that would mean I really was dead."

"And since you aren't, now Ryuuji Otogi makes a grand entrance once again," David surmised.

Duke nodded. "But I'm going to need your help," he said. "Tomorrow I'll need you to get some things from a few stores. Do you have a piece of paper?" As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he winced. How would he be able to write anything until his hand stopped hurting? He was not ambidextrous.

"Tell me what you need and I'll write it down," David said, taking a miniature notepad and a pencil out of his shirt pocket.

Grateful, Duke began to list the components he would need for the disguise. David wrote quickly, then stared at the paper and shook his head.

"This guy is some character," he remarked.

"Tell me about it," Duke said. Playing a punk in Japan had not been too difficult. No one knew the real him there. But here, in his hometown, it would be much more uncomfortable and dangerous. There was always the risk that he would be recognized, though he would go to every possible length to make certain it did not happen. Still . . .

"What about Yugi Muto and his cohorts?" David asked, voicing the very thoughts to which Duke's mind had turned.

Duke sighed. "They can't know anything," he said. "I wouldn't have told you if it hadn't been necessary. In a mess like this, I need one person who knows everything."

David nodded. "I wonder what they'll think when they learn the truth," he mused. "Those hotheads---Joey and Tristan, is it?---might not be so forgiving about the deception."

"It's a chance I'll have to take," Duke retorted. "This is the only way."

"If you say so." David replaced the notepad and the pencil in his pocket.

Duke frowned. "Do you have a better idea?"

"Not really." David smirked a bit. "Actually, I have no ideas whatsoever. But tomorrow I'll work on how I'll enter the smuggling ring. I don't want them to think you confided in me, do I?" He frowned, pondering. "Or do I. . . . If I tell them you confided in me, but I wanted to join them instead, it might look sufficiently cold and convincing."

"Or it could just look like you're trying to sneak in and finish what I started now that I'm 'gone,'" Duke said.

"Am I really the avenging type?" David said, crossing his arms.

"No," Duke said. "If you play your cards right, they might think your greed has overpowered any loyalty to me." He gave the other a hard look. "But it's risky. These guys are smart. If they find out you're infiltrating . . ."

"Well, we'll just have to make sure they don't, won't we?" David interrupted.

Duke frowned, unconvinced. "I guess so." He brushed his hair out of his eyes. ". . . Why are you willing to put so much on the line?" he asked. "You could _die._"

"I don't know." David tilted his head to the side, giving Duke a mock thoughtful look. "Maybe it's just my soft heart."

Duke snorted. "Yeah right." He threw back the quilt, painstakingly shifting his legs to the floor. "I need to use your shower. My hair is driving me crazy."

Now David laughed. "You never change, Duke." He pointed out the open doorway. "It's down the hall and to the left." But then he regarded the younger man with suspicion. "Can you stand?"

Duke balanced himself with his left hand, pushing off the couch. "I guess we'll find out." He threw his weight onto his right foot as he stood, but it was still a shock to his system. He swayed, almost tumbling backwards before catching himself. David stood up, prepared to grab for him if necessary. But then Duke sighed, managing to regain his equilibrium. "Okay, I think I can make it," he said, taking a cautious step forward.

David moved out of his way. "And you'd better put something over your right hand," he said. "That bandage shouldn't get wet."

"I know. I've got it." Duke half-limped across the room to the door leading to the hall. With his good hand he steadied himself on the wall, waiting for the sudden light-headedness to pass. The last thing he wanted was to faint again, either here or in the tub.

"And until I get these things for you tomorrow, you'll have to wear something of mine," David said, following him to the doorway. "Not quite your style, but better than trying to sleep in those torn rags."

Duke looked down at his tattered clothes. "No kidding." He glanced over his shoulder at David. "Just don't take any pictures of me in your clothes."

David smirked. "You know, maybe imagining you as Ryuuji Otogi isn't such a stretch after all," he said.

"What do you mean?" Duke queried suspiciously.

"Just that you always were kind of punk." David pointed to the remnants of the dark makeup under Duke's left eye.

Duke rolled his eyes before turning away and limping to the bathroom door.


	3. We All Begin With Good Intent

**Notes: I'm a little leery of the short conversation on the subject of home piercings, so I want to make it absolutely clear that I don't condone such a practice at all. And I should have mentioned from the start, Sarah McLachlan's **_**Fallen**_** is the image song.**

**Chapter Three**

**We All Begin With Good Intent**

The shower was refreshing and stinging all the same time. Duke sighed, letting the water wash over his raw skin as he fumbled with the elastic holding his hair in its ponytail. There was hardly any still in place, but what was left had wrapped around the elastic, effectively sticking it where it was. He tugged harder, trying not to damage his hair while at the same time trying to free it of the insistent grip. At last it slipped loose, and he set the thing on the shelf next to the tub while letting the shower run through his hair. He reached up, pulling out any tangles he encountered. Then he grabbed for the shampoo.

As he worked, his mind wandered. He was exhausted and drained; there was a heaviness over him that he had not felt since he had vowed to take revenge for his father. He had to admit---he felt bitter at his employees' betrayal. He had been furious ever since he had learned of the smuggling several weeks ago. That was bad enough, but now they had found out that he knew about them and had tried to kill him.

He was angry at himself, too---angry that he had not discovered the smuggling before, angry that he had not realized they had been spying on him, and angry that he had fallen into the trap of driving a rigged car. If he had been more careful and alert, maybe none of this would have happened. He had never thought he was that trusting of a person, but clearly he had trusted his employees too much.

And David . . . what about David?

He looked away, shutting his eyes. He did not want to think that maybe David was not on his side. Especially now that he had taken David into his confidence. If David was his enemy, that would be a nightmare.

Or maybe he was still being haunted by his father's ghost. For years he had been told not to trust anyone but himself. And his father had especially never liked David, fearing that the older boy would take Duke away from the goals he had wanted his son to achieve. Duke had liked David, perhaps because he was an escape when his father had become too much. But he had known better than to say anything about it.

And that did not change that he still wondered how far David would take his love of money. The other part of his mind continued to argue that David would not do anything illegal. Surely David was deserving of trust, unlike those creeps. But there were still some people whose identities he had not uncovered, such as the mastermind behind it all. That could be almost anyone, either someone in the store or even someone outside of it. And as long as he did not know who it was, or who else was involved in general, he did not know how he could remove David from the suspect list.

"Sometimes I wish I could just make my dad's ghost go away," he muttered to himself. "I hate being like this."

Unfortunately, in a lot of ways his father had seemed to have been right. Duke wanted to trust people, but how was he to know who was loyal? Even David helping him would not necessarily mean that he was on Duke's side. Maybe he was doing what he felt would be most profitable to him at the time.

If he felt that way, though, what about Yugi and the others? He trusted them, even though he felt like an outsider in their group. But somehow, people you had saved the world with several times over really did feel easy to trust. Though, he had trusted Yugi right after their first encounter, when Yugi had whole-heartedly forgiven him for his part in his father's scheme.

He ran a hand over his face. Sometimes he did not understand his feelings at all. While he said he trusted them, he rarely ever had opened up to them. But when he had needed help, it had been David to whom he had gone. And yet he said he did not know if he could trust David.

He leaned back, letting the water run through his hair. At the same moment, his left leg gave out without warning. He gasped, grabbing for the towel rack as he went down.

The bottom of the tub was hard. He winced as his right leg hit it with full force. For a moment he just knelt there, his eyes shut tightly as the shower beat over him. He had been an idiot to try this. David would be the first to tell him that.

"Duke?"

He started at the muffled voice on the other side of the door. "Yeah?" he called back, opening an eye.

"Are you falling in there?" David sounded suspicious already.

Duke gritted his teeth, pulling himself up by using the towel rack as his support. "No," he said. "Everything's under control."

"I hope so. But I think I'll stand out here and wait, just in case."

Embarrassed, Duke let the water wash away the rest of the soap and shampoo. "I'll be out in a few minutes," he said.

"Well, that's something," David said. "Are you hungry at all? I could put something in to cook."

Duke paused, thinking about it. He had not eaten for hours, but could he really stomach food right now? His emotions were still in such a dither. And he was so exhausted he would not be surprised if he collapsed again, out of sheer fatigue. Sometimes having a shower woke him up more. Now, if anything, it was making him more tired.

"I think I just want to sleep," he answered then.

"You should," David told him. "And go ahead and take the bed; I'll sleep on the couch."

"The couch is fine for me," Duke said as he turned off the water. Reaching for the wall and then another towel rack, he eased himself out of the tub and onto the rug before grabbing a thick towel off the nearby shelf. He rubbed it over and through his dripping hair before applying it to his skin.

"It's fine for me, too," David returned in that smooth tone that meant he had made up his mind.

Duke rolled his eyes. "Okay, wise guy, if you want it so bad, you can take it," he said.

"Thank you. I will."

Duke only half-heard. The tiredness was coming over him again, stronger than before. He could barely keep his eyes open to get dressed. He swayed, just managing to catch himself in time as his left leg wobbled once more.

Within a few minutes he opened the door, half-limping out of the bathroom. David was right there, as promised, his arms crossed as he watched Duke move across the floor.

"Bedroom's over there," he said, pointing across the hall.

Duke nodded. "Thanks," he mumbled.

He scarcely remembered sinking into the bed or falling asleep. And unlike his earlier slumber, this time he did not dream.

It was a relief.

****

David sighed as he watched Duke wander past him, somehow managing to make it through the doorway and into the bed. Or rather, onto the bed. He was too tired to even pull back the comforter and get under it. And it looked like he was already, instantly asleep.

Amused in spite of himself, David went to retrieve a second quilt from the closet. He entered the bedroom, shaking his head as he observed Duke.

"You're going to catch cold like that," he said. "Especially with that wet hair." He spread the covers across Duke and the mattress. Duke did not so much as move in response.

David straightened, pushing up his wandering glasses. "And you're just as stubborn as you were years ago," he mused. "I still remember when you slipped and fell in the street and gave yourself one of the nastiest skinned hands I've ever seen. Any other kid your age would've been crying, even if just a little bit. But no, you said you were fine.

"You always had to be fine." He sighed. "Did you think it would make you a failure in your father's eyes if you weren't? Do you still think it?"

His voice lowered. "Your father's gone, Duke. And he set an unrealistic standard for you that no one should have had to follow. If only you could let it go. . . ."

But it seemed unlikely. Duke probably did not even realize he was doing what David could see he was doing. His many facades---the I'm fine's, the cocky teenager, the arrogant ladies' man---had become a safety net. He could hide in it and conceal the boy who really was not fine all the time, the teenager who was not cocky or arrogant, the lonely kid who pushed people away and did not know how to stop, and Heaven knew how many other sides to his personality. And what would he do if that net transformed into a vise?

Or broke entirely?

"You're going to be in big trouble one of these days, Dukey-boy," he said as he turned to go. "And I just hope you're not alone when the time comes."

****

Duke was not sure what it was that awakened him next, but at some indeterminable time later his eyes opened, staring at the wall across from the bed. For a moment his mind was in a confused fog, unable to process what had happened at any time prior to him climbing under the covers. Where was he? It did not seem like his own bed. And everything hurt, from his forehead to his right hand to his left leg.

Then it all came rushing back---the car bomb, the escape, David. . . .

That was it---he was laying in David's bed.

He rose up with a groan, sweeping his still-damp hair away from his face. He had thought, had hoped, had even prayed, that it was just a bad dream. But it was all real. In the space of a few short moments, his life had been drastically altered. And there was no turning back now. He knew what he would have to do.

He looked at the clock on the nightstand. It was after ten. Had David left yet? The house seemed quiet and empty, but David could be sleeping or reading. He would make sure he did not do anything to disturb Duke, if he at all could.

Then, suddenly, he was standing in the doorway. "So, you're awake," he greeted.

Duke looked over at him. "How do you do that?" he asked.

David shrugged. "You made front-page news," he said, walking into the room and holding out the local paper.

Duke frowned at it. Plastered across the thin sheet was a color picture of the aftermath of the explosion. Pieces of car and ash were in every direction. In the background, several people stared in horror.

_**Local Businessman Killed; Police Suspect Foul Play**_

"I like attention," Duke said, "but not this kind." On the one hand, he hoped the police would be led to the smuggling ring. But on the other hand, when there were those corrupt officers on the force who likely knew what had happened, they would try to make sure to get themselves placed in charge of the investigation. They would ensure that the truth was not learned by anyone. No, Duke could not depend on the police to be much help.

David studied him. "So what time is Ryuuji Otogi supposed to make his great entrance?" he asked.

Duke leaned back on the pillow. "As soon as news reaches Japan and he has time to fly out," he said. "I'll calculate the number of hours."

"There is a problem," David said. "How will you hide your battle wounds? It could look suspicious, especially when with a little imagination, someone could see how much you resemble the 'deceased.'"

A frown crossed Duke's features as he thought it over. "My right hand will be in a glove," he said. "I could probably brush my hair over my forehead. But there's not much I can do about my left leg, unless I can train myself to hide the limp. . . ."

"In a few hours?" David raised an eyebrow.

"I might be able to disguise it somewhat," Duke said. "But I'll come up with a cover story for it anyway, if anyone asks."

"And those earrings you wanted," David went on, staring at him. "Are you planning to pierce your ears yourself?!"

Duke shrugged. "It could also look suspicious if I went somewhere to have someone else do it and the wrong people saw me," he said. "I'll be okay."

David frowned. "What did you do two years ago?" he wanted to know.

"I went to some out-of-the-way place in Japan," Duke admitted. "But nobody was trying to blow me up then. And since I never used them after I got back to the States, they've closed up now." He fingered the one piercing still open in his left ear lobe. He had lost the earring he had kept there sometime during the explosion.

David shook his head. "You're a masochist," he said. "Do you know how dangerous it is to do home piercings?"

Duke smirked. "You do what you have to do," he said. Truthfully, he did not really want to run those risks either. But when the alternative was being tracked down via a piercing shop if his enemies grew suspicious, to him the risks of home piercings paled by comparison. He would be careful of the veins.

David half-turned. "Well, I already got everything you asked for," he reported. "I decided to go early enough that I hopefully wouldn't be recognized by any screwy reporters." He sighed. "And I'll have to go in to the Black Crown. I'm already late. . . ."

Duke frowned again. "Yeah, you'd better get in there." He pulled the quilt back, only realizing now that he had been sleeping on top of the covers and that David had brought a second comforter so he would actually be underneath one. "What are you going to use as an excuse for being late?"

"Who knows." David looked back to him. "I don't think they'd believe that I was grieving."

Duke snorted. "Tell them you were up late because of the police questioning you," he suggested.

Now David smirked. "A brilliant idea," he said. "Nothing that wouldn't be expected from the great Duke Devlin."

"If they'll believe it," Duke said.

"No reason not to," David said. "I'll probably only be telling the assistant manager anyway, if I tell anyone." He gave Duke a curious look. "When will the lawyer be coming to read the will?"

"Tomorrow, probably," Duke said as he pushed himself off the bed. "I left instructions that I didn't want it to wait any longer than necessary."

David nodded. "I should get going now," he said. "Will you be alright here alone for the day?"

"Fine," Duke said. "I'll spend the time reading up on my 'death' . . . and piercing my ears."

David shuddered. "I'm glad I won't be here to see that." He started to walk up the hall, then stopped. "Oh, and Yugi Muto and his friends will likely be coming by to investigate your death themselves," he said. "What should I do if that happens?"

"Try to keep them from investigating as much as possible without it looking like you've got something to hide," Duke said. His voice hardened. "I don't want them involved. Is that clear?"

David nodded again. "I'll do what I can, Duke, but you know how persistent they are. They won't give this one up easily."

Duke looked away. "They have no idea what they'd be getting into," he said. "And I don't want them to find out."

"Okay." David passed back into the living room, Duke moving slowly behind him. "I left the stuff in that chair," he pointed out. "Feel free to get something to eat whenever you're hungry."

"Thanks." Duke watched as David went on to the front door. "Oh, and I'll probably pop in when you won't expect it," he said. "Most likely towards evening." He ducked away from the door, not wanting to be seen by anyone outside.

"Just be careful." David looked back to Duke. "The last thing you need is any more trouble."

"I don't need you to tell me that," Duke sighed. "Believe me, I know."

****

David frowned as he steered through the overcast streets of Domino City several moments later. Save for several people out raking up hoardes of leaves, and some kids jumping in a leaf-pile, most people were not out on this nippy fall morning. But his mind was not on that anyway.

He had to admit, he was worried about his old friend. Duke's plan was highly risky. Of course, he already knew that, but he was bound and determined to go through with it anyway. And if he was found out. . . . David gripped the steering wheel tighter. His enemies would make sure not to make any mistakes another time.

He almost felt like hitting his head on the steering wheel when he pulled up at the Black Crown. Just as he had predicted, Yugi and four of his friends were standing outside the front doors. One of them was yelling to be allowed inside.

This would not go well. He was certain of that.

He parked and alighted, making his way over to them. "The store isn't open today," he said, feigning a lack of knowledge at what they wanted.

All sets of eyes turned to him. "We realize that," Yugi Muto said, his voice quiet and somber.

The blond guy---Joey, wasn't it?---glowered. "We came here to get some answers!" he declared, slamming his fist into his palm. "You worked for Duke, right? Well, we're here to find out why he was murdered!"

David walked past them to the doors. Several lights were on inside. The assistant manager was waiting for him at the counter, looking concerned as to what should be done about this in Duke's absence.

"I want to know too," David said. "But the police are looking into it, aren't they? You shouldn't get involved."

"Hey!" a brunet---probably Tristan---yelled. "Duke was our friend. We're already involved."

"That's right!" a brown-haired girl nodded.

"Please!" a girl he recognized as Serenity exclaimed, hurrying over to him at the doors. "You knew Duke. If you can tell us anything about why someone would have done this . . ."

"I worked for him," David cut her off. "I wasn't his friend. He didn't confide in me." He unlocked one of the doors, pulling it aside enough to slip through. "Now, I'm sorry, but it's going to be hectic today. I'll have to ask all of you to leave."

Tristan gritted his teeth. "Have you been taking courtesy lessons from Kaiba?!" he burst out.

"You probably don't even care that he's gone!" Joey chimed in. "Now you get to take this place over, right?!"

David paused. "No," he said. "Mr. Devlin named a successor, and it isn't me."

"Then maybe he's the one who did it!" Joey said.

"I doubt it. He's currently in Japan," David said in a flat tone. He passed through the opening and then moved to shut and lock the doors again. "I really need to get to work."

"Yeah, yeah, work. That's all you guys ever care about," Joey growled. "You wouldn't even have that cushy job if it wasn't for Duke!"

"I'm quite aware of that," David said. Not giving them the chance to say more, he turned the deadbolt to lock the doors.

The assistant manager, still watching from the counter, sighed. "They've been out there since I got in," he said. "That blond guy in front was banging on the doors, screaming to be let inside."

"I'm glad you refused," David said. "I doubt we'll be opening today." He frowned. "Have the police been here again, Jared?"

Jared nodded. "They showed up this morning, but I told them I didn't think they'd learn anything more than they did last night," he said. "And they didn't." His countenance saddened. "Can you really believe Mr. Devlin's . . ."

David averted his gaze. ". . . The police wanted to know if I had any idea who could have done it," he said. He was a terrible actor. Would he really be able to do this and make it look convincing?

Jared perked up. "Did you?" he asked pleadingly.

"No idea at all," David said. "I didn't even know he was . . . _gone_ until they came." He stared down the hall to the back room. "Are you the only one here?"

"No," Jared said. "André and Rich are in the back, taking care of a shipment."

Instantly David was interested. Rich was one of the employees Duke had listed as being involved in the smuggling ring. He would need to be quietly observed for a while. It could look suspicious if the first thing David did after Duke's demise was try to get into the ring himself.

"Mr. Tanaka . . ."

David looked back as Jared spoke. The assistant manager was worried, twisting his tie in his hands. Despite Duke telling him that they did not need to be that formal, Jared had always insisted on wearing a tie to work. Usually they were very unique and eclectic designs, too; David had never seen Jared sport any solid color ties. Today it was the Tasmanian Devil.

"What's going to happen now?" Jared wanted to know. "I heard you mentioning something about Mr. Devlin having a successor."

"That's right," David said. "I've been trying to contact him, but without any luck. He's always been hard to get hold of. Hopefully he'll just hear the news and come here."

"Do you think he'll keep us on?" Jared said.

"I guess we'll have to wait and see," David said. "I'm not going to lose any sleep over it." He walked towards the back room. "I don't remember knowing that a shipment was scheduled to come in today."

"It was early," Jared explained. "It's the one that was supposed to come two days from now."

"I see." David pushed open the door leading to the storage room. "How are you two doing back here?" he asked as he stepped inside.

Both André and Rich jumped a mile. Then André frowned. "It feels wrong to even be here, with Mr. Devlin gone," he said. He straightened, brushing packing peanuts off of his hands.

Rich continued pawing through the box, finally pulling out several new editions of _Risk._ "He'd want this place to keep going," he said.

David nodded. "That's right," he said. "So keep it up." Nothing seemed suspicious back here, at least not offhand. He turned to go back through the still-open door. But instead of exiting, he slipped behind a shelf as the door clicked closed. André and Rich, already involved with the box again, did not notice.

They also did not speak of anything that would indicate something illegal was taking place. It was possible that André was not involved at all, in which case of course Rich would not bring it up around him. There was also the possibility that they were both in on the matter, however, which was the reason David had decided to spy on them for a while. But it was not long before he returned to the main room, unable to discern anything questionable.

Jared was still leaning on the counter. "You were in there a long time, sir," he said. "Is everything okay back there?"

David nodded. "I was just leaving when I remembered I was going to check on some of the inventory," he bluffed. "Between now and the next shipment would be a good time to take a complete inventory. And it might make a good impression on Mr. Devlin's successor."

Jared blinked. "I guess it has been a while since we've taken inventory," he said.

"It's been too hectic around here lately," David said. "Mr. Devlin was just saying a couple of nights ago that we needed to slow down and take inventory before the holiday rush."

"We'd better do it then," Jared agreed.

"And since we won't be opening, today would be a good time to start," David said.

There was another reason he wanted to have inventory taken. If there was anything in the latest shipment that should not be there, he wanted to find it. And if anyone seemed suspicious about it, such as those supposed to be involved, David would confront them about it and tell them he wanted in on the deal.

He just had to hope it would work.

He would feel a lot better about things once Duke arrived and the responsibility for the deception was not entirely on his, David's, shoulders. Especially since Duke was a master of deception. But in another way, he would worry more.

_I hope you know what you're doing, Duke,_ he thought to himself. _Or we're both sunk._


	4. I'm Lost to Those I Thought Were Friends

**Chapter Four**

**I'm Lost to Those I Thought Were Friends**

The day passed agonizingly slow.

Inside the Black Crown, the taking of inventory was not bringing about any discoveries of items that should not be there. And though André had given David a black look when the task had first been announced, he had not behaved suspiciously in the least. Neither had Rich, who had not seemed that upset about the unscheduled inventory.

"We're getting paid for it," he had shrugged.

Outside, Yugi and the others were a mixture of grief, anger, disgust, and many other emotions.

"We're not going to learn anything here," Tristan had said when David had left them standing on the sidewalk. "We should look elsewhere. Maybe Gabrielle knows if there's been any breaks in the case."

"Good enough for me," Joey had growled. "Let's check it out."

And so they had gone to the police station, though it was a largely fruitless visit. Gabrielle had nothing to report. The police force was as baffled as everyone else. Maybe, some still said, it had been a malfunction with the car instead of a deliberate attempt to end Duke's life. But Gabrielle, as well as some others, insisted otherwise. They would stay on the case until they knew the truth.

For the rest of the daylight hours the discouraged teens wandered the city, not really knowing what they might find or what to even look for. They did attempt to visit Duke's apartment, but the police had sealed it off while they investigated themselves. Eventually the group trudged back to the Turtle Game Shop, weary and disconsolate.

"I just don't understand!" Serenity cried as they walked. "Why would anyone do something so horrible?! And to someone so kind?!" Over the years, she had seen so many terrible things happen to those she dearly loved and cared about. Every time something went wrong and someone was hurt, she felt a piece of her heart shatter. But at least in the past, they had always recovered. This time, there was no way to rectify the damage, no way to hope that Duke would be alright. He could never come back. For Serenity, that made this the very worst thing she had ever witnessed.

"Duke must've got into something pretty bad," Tristan frowned.

He kicked a tin can someone had carelessly left on the sidewalk. Now Duke was not there to interfere with his attempts to win Serenity's heart, but Tristan just felt sickened. He had not wanted their rivalry to end like this. And even though Duke had sometimes acted like an arrogant, obnoxious jerk, he had also helped them out of a lot of serious predicaments. He had been their friend.

Yugi sighed sadly. "The store's still lit up," he noted as they approached his grandfather's game shop. Across the street, the Black Crown was indeed aglow, on both visible floors.

"I wonder what they're doing over there," Téa blinked. "Ordinarily they'd still be open now, but when they were closed all day. . . ."

"I say we should just go over and look," Tristan said, looking in that direction.

"Fine with me," Joey said. "Maybe that grouch will be gone and we can get in."

"Don't count on it," Téa sighed as they walked across the street.

Joey promptly ran up to the double doors and peered through the glass. "No one's up front," he reported. He grabbed the doors and pulled. "And aww man, these things are still locked!"

Tristan grabbed him before he could topple to the ground. "There might be a back way in," he suggested. "Like maybe if they're taking old boxes out to the dumpster, they'd leave the back door open so they could get in and out easy."

Joey perked up. "That's a great idea, Tristan!" he declared. "Let's go for it!"

Serenity looked worried. "Should we?" she said. "They might have us arrested for trespassing."

"And what is it you're really hoping to accomplish in there, Joey?" Yugi blinked. "I don't think anyone will talk to us."

"Well, they should," Joey grumbled, though now he was hesitating due to Serenity's words. The last thing he wanted was to get her in any possible trouble. And if he presented a bad example by "trespassing," he could not help but wonder if their mother would try to separate them again.

"They probably don't know any more than we do," Yugi said. "Maybe the manager was right and we should leave this to the police."

"Of course I'm right."

Everyone jumped a mile as David abruptly appeared from around the side of the building. He regarded the teens in amazement, though a bit of pity flashed in his dark eyes for a brief moment. But then it was gone, replaced by cool efficiency.

"You haven't been standing here all day, have you?" he queried.

"Oh no, nothing like that," Tristan said, unable to keep the hint of bitterness out of his voice. "We've just been all over town."

"And on our way back, we saw this place still lit up!" Joey put in. "So we wanted to know why. It's gettin' late!"

"It's not anything secret," David said with a shrug. "We've been taking inventory."

"Inventory?!" Joey cried in indignation. "On the day after your boss is blown to bits?! What the heck?!"

"He wanted it done," David returned, never abandoning his calm, collected tone. "And since it is getting late, maybe all of us should go to our homes." He gave them a pointed look.

"We really should go," Yugi said, looking to David apologetically in reply. "We're sorry if we've inconvenienced you in any way. . . ."

David nodded, his expression softening a little. "I know you're upset about Mr. Devlin," he said. "If I had any answers I could give you, I would. But all I can do for now is to keep this place running. He wouldn't have wanted it to fall into disrepair."

Joey sighed, defeated. "No, he wouldn't have," he said.

"And I don't intend to let it happen, either."

For the second time everyone started. As they whirled, a newcomer pushed away from a lamppost where he had been leaning, letting the glow illuminate his tall, lanky form.

David's mouth dropped open in shock. The kid was a total punk, from his deliberately torn slate-blue shirt to his black jeans and mesh armwarmers. His shoulder-length black hair was flowing free, the bangs falling over his forehead and parted in the middle. Two gold earrings on his right and three on his left, plus fuchsia makeup under his eyes, completed the look. He walked over to the group, toying with his yin-yang pendant in a gloved hand.

"Wait a minute," Joey frowned at him. "_You're_ not gonna let it happen? Who the heck are you and what do you have to do with this place?!" He pointed at the store.

The punk gave him an easy smirk. "'Who the heck am I'?" he repeated. "Ryuuji Otogi. Before long I'll have everything to do with this place, just as Duke wanted. And, if you'll permit me to turn the tables . . . who the heck are _you_ and what do _you_ have to do with this place?"

Not skipping a beat, Joey pointed at himself. "Joey Wheeler, friend of the deceased," he snapped. "We're investigating his murder."

Tristan frowned at the newcomer. "You're not saying you're the new owner," he said in disbelief.

David still looked stunned, even overwhelmed. "Mr. Devlin did tell me he had named a Ryuuji Otogi as his successor," he said. He looked to the stranger, searching his brown eyes as if seeking some kind of answer. ". . . Of . . . of course you'll have to prove you really are who you say. . . ."

"That won't be hard." Otogi went past the kids to stand by the main doors. "We can do it now." He waited while David made his way over to him. "By the way, you say you're investigating Duke's murder?" He looked to Joey, who firmly nodded.

"That's right!" he said. "We're not gonna rest until we know who did this and why."

Otogi frowned. A hand strayed to his hair, brushing it back over his shoulder as it got too close for his comfort. "Well," he said, "as commendable as that is, you should leave it to the authorities. Duke would never want his friends to get into a situation where they could be hurt or killed because of him." His eyes narrowed with a dark and cold surety. "Whoever killed him is more dangerous than we can even know."

"Oh yeah? And how do you know what Duke would want?" Tristan snapped as he stepped forward. "He never even talked about you before!"

"There wasn't any reason to," Otogi said, while David unlocked the doors. "He only told his right-hand man, for business reasons." He paused. "But on the other hand, he told me all about all of you, just in case I ever would need to take over for him. I recognized your name, Wheeler, so I guess that means you must be Yugi Muto and his cohorts."

Yugi blinked, again in surprise. "Well . . . I _am_ Yugi Muto," he agreed, slowly.

"It's good to meet you. I'm sorry it's under these circumstances." Otogi gave one brusque nod and then stepped through the doors into the main room of the Black Crown. David followed him inside, helplessly shrugging at Yugi and the others as he locked the doors once more. He was just as confused as they.

"Do you . . . have a place to stay, Otogi-san?" he asked, hesitant. He was not even sure how to address the Japanese boy. Maybe "Mr. Otogi" would be just as appropriate. Perhaps, he had chosen "Otogi-san" because of their shared Asian heritage.

"Not yet." Otogi's frown deepened. "The good hotels seem to be booked for tonight." He walked past David, looking over every square inch of the store, apparently wanting to familiarize himself with what would soon be his.

"I have room at my house, if you want to stay there tonight," David offered. "It's not much, but hopefully it's better than trying a low-class motel."

Otogi turned to look at him. "Thanks," he said. "I'll take you up on that."

David nodded. "I'll show you Mr. Devlin's office," he said. "This way." He led the other up the stairs and out of sight.

Joey, pressed against the glass, grumbled. "That was weird," he said as he peeled himself away. "Duke actually wanted that guy to take over for him?!"

Yugi rubbed the back of his neck. "Well . . . maybe he's a really good businessman, Joey," he said. "I know he looks kind of punk, but . . ."

"Kind of?!" Joey frowned. "He's a punk from the word 'go.' Then again . . . Duke was a little like that himself. Guess it figures he'd hire someone like that."

"Not a conventional businessman, that's for sure," Tristan said.

"And this Otogi guy wants to kick us off the case." Joey crossed his arms. "I vote we don't listen."

Serenity looked concerned. "What if Duke really wouldn't want us investigating?" she said.

"We don't know that," Tristan said. "We don't even know that we can trust that guy." He glared into the shop. "It seems like Duke would've mentioned something about him."

"Duke never did talk too much about himself or his store," Yugi said then. "He hardly ever mentioned David, for instance. . . ." And he frowned slightly in confusion.

Joey glanced to him in surprise. "What is it, Yug?" he asked.

"I was just thinking," Yugi said, looking up at him, "I'm sure I saw the two of them together in the past. . . ."

Téa blinked. "You mean when they weren't at the store?"

Yugi nodded. "I think they were having lunch at the mall once. Of course, they could've been discussing business, but . . ." He looked back at the store himself. "I got the impression that they were more than business associates. I've hardly ever seen Duke as relaxed as he was then."

"You heard the guy, Yugi," Tristan interjected, jerking his thumb backwards at the glass. "They weren't friends. And anyway, if they were, wouldn't Duke have told us that? Even introduced us sometime?"

"You'd think so, but . . ." Yugi looked away. "I always had the feeling that Duke may have led a completely different life than what we knew about. And that David was a part of this other life."

"So why the lies?" Tristan wondered, crossing his arms. "Didn't they trust us or something?!"

Serenity laid a hand on his arm. "Tristan, I'm sure that's not it," she protested.

"There must be another explanation," Yugi agreed. "Or maybe I'm even wrong. It could've been someone else I saw. . . ."

"Probably not," Joey said. "You usually have a pretty good memory, Yugi." He sighed. "Let's get some sleep and come back tomorrow. Maybe we'll learn something then."

"Yeah," Tristan nodded. "I'm all for that."

The five friends turned to go back across the street. Yugi paused, glancing over his shoulder at the Black Crown. Somehow it looked lonely and cold against the darkness of the night, even with the lights ablaze.

_You sure kept your secrets, Duke,_ he thought to himself. _And it looks like you still are._

With a sigh, he followed the others.

****

Otogi wandered down the upstairs hall with David, glancing around for anyone in listening range. Everything looked the same, of course---though he could not give any hint of recognition. It was odd, to have to behave as though a place with which he was greatly familiar was something new and previously unseen.

"I think you'll find that my identification checks out just fine," he said.

"I'm sure it will," David said, "but you understand we have to take every precaution."

"I'd be worried if you didn't," Otogi said.

David ignored that, stopping at a door. "Here it is."

Otogi stepped into the old office with curiosity as David opened the door. All was as it had been left---or at least, so it looked. Duke had wondered whether anyone would have gotten into his files, hoping to destroy any information he had stored there. With a casual strut, Otogi went to the filing cabinet and pulled open a metal drawer. It squealed in protest as he winced.

"These are out of shape," he criticized. "They should be oiled before someone breaks an eardrum."

David just shook his head in amazement. It was both the same and different to be here with Ryuuji Otogi. Clearly he had the same basic personality as Duke Devlin, but he was more caustic and cold. Though, David had little doubt that Duke would have become just like this if he had continued on his previous path of helping his father. He had witnessed Duke behaving in a frosty manner two years ago when the crazed man had insisted on Duke helping him enact the plan to get revenge on the Mutos.

"Mr. Devlin mentioned it should be done," he said at last. "He never had the chance."

Otogi finished looking through the contents of the drawer and slid it shut before opening another. "Maybe he shouldn't have procrastinated," he said.

This conversation was solely in case some of the employees were listening. Otogi looked to David, a silent message passing to him.

David understood. He glared at the other in annoyance. "If you'll forgive me, Otogi-san, I wasn't expecting that you would start speaking ill of the dead," he said. "I was under the impression that you and Mr. Devlin were on friendly terms."

Otogi snorted. "Sure we were," he said, "but that doesn't mean I won't berate faults if I see them. And that doesn't extend just to Duke, either. You'll find that I'm not as patient or forgiving as he was if there's any screw-ups with your work or anyone else's."

"I understand." David frowned. He had heard some of the employees moving around through the heating grate. Now all was silent. Clearly, their little act had the attention of everyone else in the building.

"And is anyone besides yourself working late tonight?" Otogi asked.

"There are three employees downstairs taking inventory," David reported.

"At least you're keeping up-to-date on that." Otogi shut the last drawer, frowning at a chart showing the last time inventory had been taken. "Or not. Look at this procrastination! It's a wonder anything got done around here at all." He turned, stalking to the door before David could reply. "I want to meet these employees."

David hurried after him. "We were about to leave for the night when you came, Otogi-san," he said as they jogged down the stairs. "I wasn't expecting you anymore tonight." An edge had slipped into his voice.

"I came as soon as I heard the news," Otogi said. Upon arriving at the bottom, he sighed and reached to massage the bridge of his nose. "I'm sorry, I'm on edge tonight," he apologized. "I was shocked when I heard about Duke's death, like I know you must have been. And it makes me angry that there haven't been any clues to the killer's identity."

"It was a blow," David agreed, not entirely acting now. "And if it really was murder . . ."

"Could it have been anything else?" Otogi interrupted. "Duke would've noticed a malfunction with his car."

"Unless it was a freak accident that could not have been prevented," David said. "If it was instantaneous . . ."

"It happened in enough time that Duke knew it was going to blow," Otogi said. "There's no other reason why he would've swerved his car the way he did."

"I know." David wanted to ban the images from his mind---Duke realizing the car was going to explode, trying to protect the other people on the freeway, trying to save himself. . . . Duke had actually not explained how he had survived the blast. Obviously he had escaped the car, but why hadn't anyone seen him? With so many people, it would seem like someone would have seen something.

He pushed the thought from his mind. There was no reason to be so concerned over that. It was probably just because Duke had fallen down the hill and the car had exploded right then, concealing a view of anything except the blaze.

Otogi was opening the door leading to the storage room. He stepped inside, glancing around at the shelves and boxes as he looked for any visible employees. David followed him in, letting the door close behind them.

"You can come out now," he called. "Mr. Devlin's successor has arrived from Japan. He wants to meet you."

André, Rich, and a girl named Veronica emerged from around the corner. Ronnie looked close to tears, while André looked annoyed at the extra delay in getting home and Rich was simply curious.

Otogi took them all in at once with his sweeping gaze, his hands on his hips. "Ryuuji Otogi," he said, not offering a hand to shake. "Duke said he had some of the most hard-working employees in Domino. He must not have been exaggerating too much." He gestured at the organized merchandise.

If Rich caught the hidden meaning in the words, he gave no indication of it. "Richard Lewis," he said. "If Mr. Devlin chose you, sir, then you must be a hard-working employer."

"Flattery won't get you anywhere with me, Lewis," Otogi said. He could not help the bitter thoughts running through his mind. Rich was involved in the smuggling ring. How involved had he been in the attempt to end Duke's life? Of course any compliments he handed out were as fake as he was.

Rich took a step back, appearing surprised by the frostiness in the other's tone. André looked Otogi up and down, unimpressed by the punk style. Noticing his expression, Otogi fixed him with a cold gaze.

"If you have something you want to say to me, then say it," he said.

André stepped forward, filling the place Rich had been standing a moment earlier. "I'm André Kessler," he greeted. "I'm just hoping you'll be a fair boss, Mr. Otogi."

Otogi shrugged. "You'll find I'm reasonable, as long as you pull your weight," he said. "So far you seem to be doing well. But I hope this taking of inventory wasn't just a show to impress me."

Veronica shook her head. "No," she said. "It was for Duke . . . Mr. Devlin." She blushed, looking down.

Otogi softened a bit. "He'd appreciate it," he said.

Ronnie perked up, but only slightly. Her eyes were still filled with sorrow. "I don't understand why that happened to him," she said. "I . . . I spoke to him right before he left yesterday. When I saw the news, I realized I'd been the last person to ever talk to him. . . ."

"His death was a grave injustice," Otogi said, a bit of the coldness slipping back into his tone. "Whoever was responsible should be given Hell."

David felt chilled by Otogi's voice. It was hard to believe that this was entirely an act, especially after some of Duke's words last night. He remembered the coldness he had heard then.

"If I can ask a question," Veronica's timid voice spoke now, "how did you meet Mr. Devlin, Mr. Otogi?"

Otogi looked to her. "I worked for the Tokyo branch of Industrial Illusions before I came to America to go to school," he said. "I was promoting Dungeon Dice Monsters in Japan and Duke came to see how it was going."

"You speak English flawlessly," Rich remarked.

"Well," Otogi answered, "it's a necessary skill for being part of an international company. At least, I think so. I learned English in Japan."

". . . Was that the only time the two of you met?" André asked.

"We communicated off and on after that," Otogi said, "on business-related matters. Duke was impressed by my skills and my knowledge. That was why he decided he trusted me with being his successor, should the need ever arise."

"So you know for sure that you are the one he chose?" Rich said. "The lawyer hasn't read the will yet."

"He asked me privately if I'd accept the position before he ever put it in his will," Otogi said, giving him a bored look. "I hope you don't think I'm counting my chickens before they hatch."

Rich flushed and looked away. "No, Mr. Otogi. . . ."

"Good." Otogi turned to go out of the room. "Well, it's late. You've all worked hard. I suggest everyone go home and get some sleep, if that isn't contrary to what you were thinking, Mr. Tanaka." He looked to David. "Until I am officially declared the owner of this store, I believe you're in charge."

David nodded. "That's true, Otogi-san. And going home is a good idea. We'll finish the inventory sometime tomorrow." Inwardly he winced at the awful, wooden lines. Hopefully no one else would notice.

He gestured to the three employees, who were relieved to follow him and Otogi into the main room. André reached and extinguished the lights as they walked past the switch.

The kids were gone, David noted with relief as he unlocked and opened the doors. Hopefully they had given up and gone home. He did not like treating them so coolly when they were only upset about their friend.

No further words were exchanged until they were in the privacy of David's car and maneuvering the lonely nighttime streets of Domino. Then Duke sighed, leaning back against the seat and staring at the ceiling.

David glanced at him. ". . . You were right, I wasn't expecting it," he said. "And even though I knew what you were going to be wearing, you still bowled me over."

"Heh." Duke ran a hand into his hair. "What do you think about those three?" he asked. "I haven't been able to prove that André or Veronica are mixed up in the ring."

"I couldn't say," David frowned. "André didn't want to take inventory at the beginning, but that doesn't mean anything. Rich seemed perfectly okay with it, by contrast. When Veronica came in later, she was more than willing."

"Do you think any of them suspect . . . ?" Duke let the question hang in the air.

David shook his head. "I really don't think so," he said. "I don't think they've even considered that you might have survived that bomb." But as he spoke, his earlier uneasiness returned to him. As they stopped for a red light, he looked to Duke again. "Are you absolutely sure no one saw you leap out of the car?"

"Pretty sure," Duke said. "No one came to help me. And if some enemy saw me, I would've been followed. I probably would've been killed for real before I ever made it to your door."

That made sense. David tried to push the concern away once more.

". . . The lawyer called today," he reported. "He said he'd be coming tomorrow at ten."

"Good," Duke nodded.

". . . What will you do about Yugi Muto and his friends?" David wondered. "I mean . . . will they need to show up for the reading of the will? . . . Or will they show up whether they need to or not?" he added in a slightly dry tone.

Duke sighed. "I honestly didn't know how to write them into the will," he confessed. "I didn't know what to give them . . . what they might want, if anything . . . or if having something of mine would just make it more uncomfortable for them. I did write them a letter a few weeks back, and it was supposed to be included with the will, but . . ." He shook his head. "I've been wondering if I should really give it to them."

David kept his gaze on the road. ". . . I think you should," he said. "Maybe you never felt altogether comfortable around them, Duke, but they did care about you. I could tell."

"I know. I care about them, too. I don't want them to be hurt." Duke stared at his vague reflection in the car window. "But I know they already have been. And they'll be hurt more before this is all over." He looked back to David. "You're probably right, too, about Joey and Tristan not forgiving me for this."

For a moment David was silent. "I could always be wrong," he said then.

Duke half-smirked in the darkness. "Maybe," he said.

He toyed with the pendant again. "It was weird, looking right at them and realizing they didn't recognize me," he said. "At the same time, I was praying they wouldn't."

"And your prayers were answered," David said.

"For better or worse," Duke said. "Everything's so critical, though. . . . I could have been standing in a room with one or more of my killers tonight. If they get the tiniest hint that I'm not really Ryuuji Otogi. . . ." He shook his head. "I have to distance myself as far as possible from Duke Devlin. Otogi can't be anything like him."

David nodded. ". . . Just be careful," he said. "If you play a role too long, Duke, you might forget how to be yourself."

Duke gave a grim chuckle. "When have I ever not played a role?" he said. "This is just another one."

"No." David continued to watch the road. "Otogi is cold. He could have been you, once upon a time. I never want to see you become that way."

Duke sobered. "I won't," he said.

"Good." But David was still worried.

It was a relief to pull up at the house. Duke undid the seatbelt and opened the door, stepping out onto the driveway. David followed close behind, idly watching the autumn breeze tousling Duke's dark hair.

". . . Another reason I doubt they suspect anything," he mused as they climbed the steps to the porch. "No one but me has ever seen you with your hair down. It's sort of an instant disguise. But the outlandish makeup and the colored contacts don't hurt."

"Hopefully it'll keep working," Duke muttered, brushing some stray hair away from his face.

David looked to him. "And your _ears,_" he said, unlocking the front door. He was unable to suppress a shudder of horror. _Five earrings!_ It looked so painful. "Did you really . . ."

"I really did." Duke smirked more as he walked past David into the house. "Don't worry, I didn't leave a mess."

"I hope not," David said, pulling the storm door closed after them.


	5. We Believe That We Can Change Ourselves

**Chapter Five**

**We Believe That We Can Change Ourselves**

It was amazing, how fast news traveled, Duke thought in annoyance.

As he and David arrived at the Black Crown the next morning, reporters and curious onlookers alike were gathered on the sidewalk. Not only did they know about the reading of the will today, they also had heard about the mysterious Ryuuji Otogi and wanted a glimpse of this reclusive young businessman for themselves. And among those in the crowd, Yugi and the others were visible. The more the throng shoved and pushed, Joey and Tristan did the same, trying to clear a path for them, Yugi, Téa, and Serenity.

David sighed as he turned off the car's engine. "Ready to face the lions' den?" he asked, giving Duke a sidelong glance.

"Let's get it over with," Duke muttered, opening the door and and stepping onto the sidewalk. Instantly he was half-blind from the snapping of cameras.

"Mr. Otogi!" called one reporter.

"Mr. Otogi, do you have a statement for the press?" asked another.

He shook his head, pushing his way through the crowd. "No statements right now," he said.

As David followed, he received the same treatment---the reporters hoping that if they could not catch one, they could get the other.

"We're going to be late," he said in reply, irritable as he finally reached the doors and unlocked them. He herded Duke in ahead of him, then immediately followed. But as he turned to lock the doors again, he could only stare, aghast.

"Hey there," Joey greeted with a mocking wave. He and the others were standing in front of the doors, on the inside.

"You didn't really think we wouldn't find a way inside, did you?" Tristan said, crossing his arms.

Otogi turned to look at them, unimpressed. "I could have all of you kicked out of here for trespassing," he said, trying to ignore Serenity's worried expression. He hated this already. He felt like a heartless monster, but Otogi's personality had already been established. To waver from it would be a grave mistake.

"We got in before the doors closed," Joey protested.

Tristan nodded. "And this is a public room. It wasn't trespassing."

Otogi turned away. "The only people allowed to the reading of the will are those specifically requested," he said.

"You're not saying we weren't," Tristan frowned.

"Duke wouldn't do that to us," Téa said.

Otogi was saved from replying by a frantic knock on the glass. He turned, raising an eyebrow at the sight of the lawyer attempting to get inside while the reporters demanded answers.

Joey reached over, prying the doors open just enough that the attorney was able to squeeze past. Then the blond boy closed the doors once more, turning the deadbolt as a finishing touch.

The lawyer sighed, straightening his tie and trying to look less ruffled. "Mr. Otogi, Mr. Tanaka," he addressed the duo in turn. He looked to Yugi and the others with questions in his eyes. "Who are . . . ?"

Otogi glanced at David with an unreadable look. The other man gave no outward indication of it, instead heading for the stairs.

"They're Mr. Devlin's friends," he said over his shoulder. "They can come."

Joey gave a triumphant smirk. "There! See?" he said, looking at Otogi.

Otogi just shrugged. "If that was Duke's decision, then fine," he said, moving to follow David up the stairs.

Joey frowned after him. "What's his problem, anyway?" he said to Yugi in a stage whisper. The other boy could only helplessly shrug in response.

David led the way down the hall, in the opposite direction to what he and Duke had trod the previous night. He opened a door on the far right, revealing a conference room with a long, oval table and plush green swivel chairs. As he turned on the lights, the attorney went to the head of the table and sat down, taking an envelope out of his briefcase. The others filed in after him, each claiming a chair. David followed, choosing a place beside Otogi.

Joey frowned as the lawyer removed a document from the envelope and began to read the opening statement. According to the date, Duke had written it only five weeks ago. What had he been thinking? Who wrote a will that early, unless they knew something was going to go wrong? Well, Kaiba had one, but he had probably only written it up after seeing how many enemies he had. Duke had not seemed to have any enemies---well, unless guys angry about him flirting with girls they were dating counted.

He snapped back to the present just as the attorney was getting to the main body of the will.

"'To Ryuuji Otogi, I leave the deed to the Black Crown, as well as my apartment and my earthly belongings. In the case that Ryuuji Otogi cannot be found, the deed to the Black Crown passes to Industrial Illusions. My earthly belongings will pass to the government, unless Yugi Muto, Joseph Wheeler, Serenity Wheeler, Tristan Taylor, Téa Gardner, and Ryou Bakura wish to possess anything for themselves. They then will have first choice.'"

Serenity bit her lip, looking down at the table.

Tristan frowned. "Otogi gets everything," he hissed to Joey. "We're only an afterthought in case he doesn't show up!"

Joey nodded. "Who the heck is he?!" he said, annoyed. "We've never heard of the guy and he's the one Duke wants to have inherit the works!" _He'd better not figure he inherits Serenity's heart too,_ he thought to himself. _And he'd better __**not**__ inherit her heart!_

Otogi pretended not to hear. He stared at the lawyer, his expression not wavering, his gloved hands clasped on the table.

_I'm sorry, guys,_ he said silently. _Someday I hope I'll be able to explain everything . . . and that you won't hate me too much._

"'To my trusted associate, David Tanaka, I leave the managerial position of the Black Crown. He is free to hold it for as long as he so chooses.'"

Joey sneaked a glance at David, who was not paying attention to the curious Brooklyn boy. Tristan elbowed him in the ribs.

"'To Yugi Muto, Joseph Wheeler, Serenity Wheeler, Tristan Taylor, Téa Gardner, and Ryou Bakura, I leave an enclosed letter. I know they must be confused, but it is my hope that this will alleviate some of their concerns.'"

"It'll _what?!_" Joey hissed in a loud whisper. "Levitate?!"

"Alleviate," Otogi grumbled.

The attorney reached into the envelope, pulling out a long, white envelope. Written on the front, in Duke's handwriting, was _Yugi and company._ He passed it across the table to the multi-color-haired boy, who took it with sad, yet curious, eyes.

"I hope this really will clear things up," Tristan frowned.

Yugi nodded. They would read it back at the Turtle Game Shop, where they would have more privacy. And they would need to contact Bakura, too. He had been busy helping his father prepare a new exhibit for the museum, but he had expressed his sadness over Duke's death and his concern for the others, especially Tristan and Serenity.

Otogi sighed to himself. Hopefully he would not regret the writing of that letter. Without even thinking about it, he raised a hand to his hair and began to wrap a piece around his finger.

David noticed immediately. Trying to be discreet, he kicked Otogi under the table.

The younger man gave a start, brought back to the present. With realization dawning, he let his hand drop to the table. A quick glance around the room let him know that no one else had noticed his _faux pax._

As the lawyer came to the end of the will, he set the document down on top of the manilla envelope. David then placed a file folder in the middle of the table, his expression betraying none of his feelings.

"This is the deed," he announced, "plus other documents and the keys to the store."

The attorney slid the folder to him, then flipped it open and perused the contents. "Everything looks in order," he said. He looked to Otogi. "Mr. Otogi, ownership of the Black Crown has passed to you."

Otogi gave a quiet nod as he accepted the folder. The lawyer added a small white envelope to the top.

"This is the key to the apartment," he said.

Otogi nodded again. As everyone stood, he gathered the items in his hands. "Thank you," he said.

The attorney nodded as well, collecting the will and his briefcase.

Yugi shifted. "I . . . guess we'll be going now," he said, feeling awkward. What should he say? _Congratulations_ would be inappropriate. And Otogi looked so tired now, as if he was fully realizing the weight crashing onto his shoulders.

Otogi looked to him. "You do that," he said.

Serenity hesitated. She knew what she wanted to ask, but she was not sure if she should. She was also not sure if she really wanted to hear the answer.

Now his gaze turned to her. He studied her hazel eyes for a moment, as if seeking out her feelings. "Did you want something, Ms. Wheeler?" he asked then.

Her cheeks went crimson as she looked down. "Well . . . um . . . Mr. Otogi . . ." She looked up at him again. "I was just wondering. . . . When Duke talked about us to you, did he say nice things?"

He wanted more than anything to take her hands in his, to firmly and strongly reassure her that Duke cared about all of them, that he loved her. He wanted to tell her the truth, to let her know that Duke had not died in the explosion, that he was standing right there beside her. . . .

But he could not.

"Yeah," he told her. "Oh sure, he mentioned some faults---like your brother's short fuse---but overall what he had to say was positive."

Joey glowered. "Then why do you act like a chunk of ice?!" he snapped. "If Duke liked us, maybe you should too!"

"I don't dislike you." Otogi watched Joey, unimpressed by his outburst. "I'll put it this way---maybe I'm not treating you guys the best, but do I treat anyone else any better? It's nothing personal."

Tristan peered at him, suspicion in his eyes. "Why would Duke even hire a jerk like you?" he said. "You're not much better than Kaiba, and Duke never associated much with him."

"Duke always respected his business sense, though," Otogi said. "And out of everyone he met, he felt that I was the most qualified to take over for him if anything should happen. Especially since I'd already shown interest in his work and headed up the Japanese promotion of Dungeon Dice Monsters."

"That makes sense," Yugi said. He sighed. "I'm sorry we bothered you, Mr. Otogi. I know you're upset about Duke, too."

Otogi looked away. "The people who killed him are going to pay," he vowed.

Serenity lingered by him, her gaze traveling over his tall and lanky form. She felt something when she was in his presence, something familiar and alien at the same time. He was about the same height as Duke, and his hair was the same color, but the similarities really ended there---in both looks and personality. There was no reason why she would feel anything familiar, unless it was just her own heartache and longing that were causing her to feel that way.

Still, she could not keep herself from worriedly replying to his angry words. "Be careful," she said, her voice soft.

Otogi turned in surprise, searching her eyes once more. Embarrassed, she averted her gaze and moved to follow the others. "Goodbye, Mr. Otogi," she said.

"Goodbye," he echoed, his voice quieter than hers. He remained where he was, observing until all of them had left the room.

David, coming up from behind him, laid a hand on his shoulder. Otogi jumped a mile.

"I'm going to get downstairs and see what the employees are doing," David said, keeping his own voice low.

Otogi nodded, having quickly regained his composure. "Go ahead. I'm going to my office." He strode out of the room, leaving David to gaze after him.

"It's true that they're hurting," David said to his retreating back, "but so are you. Don't forget that."

Otogi paused, as if processing the words, but then kept going.

With a sigh David turned off the lights and made his own exit. What he was about to do now was risky. But, if it worked, he would hopefully discern for himself at least some of the true members of the smuggling ring---and sneak his way into their ranks.

He reached for the small bag in his pocket.

****

It was close to an hour later when Yugi and the others at last gathered in the upstairs living room of the Mutos' modest home. Yugi took a deep breath, surveying his friends sitting on the couch, chairs, and the floor, before looking to the sealed letter in his hands.

"It's addressed to 'Yugi and company', so you should be the one to read it, Yug," Joey said from the floor.

Yugi nodded. He wanted to know what it said, but in another way he dreaded it, especially being the one to share it with the others. Still, hesitating would not help anything. In determination he ripped open the flap and removed two sheets of paper. He blinked as he unfolded them; Duke had hand-written his final message. Yugi's voice caught in his throat as he began to read.

"'Hey guys. I'm sorry you're getting this letter, since by now all of us know what that means. But I didn't want to go without leaving something to remember me by. And no matter which way things went, I know you're probably all confused.

"'If you've met Ryuuji Otogi, well, all I can say is to give him a chance. He probably won't show it, but he's upset, just like you guys are. As to why he got everything, it was nothing against you. _I promise._ He knows the reason, and in time, I hope he'll explain it to you.

"'If Industrial Illusions took over the store, then that's that. If there's anything you want of mine, go ahead and take it. I didn't want to will anything specifically to you because I didn't know how you'd feel about it or what you'd even want, if anything. And please don't feel pressured into taking anything. If you want it, fine. If you don't, that's fine too.'"

Serenity blinked away several tears. "Duke always was so thoughtful," she said.

Tristan crossed his arms. "But seriously, he didn't know how any of us would feel?" he frowned. "After everything we've been through, he should know us pretty well."

Bakura shifted, uncomfortable with the sudden tension. "Well . . . I suppose we've never really talked about _that,_" he said as he stroked his cat Oreo's fur. "I can understand his hesitance. . . ." He himself had often felt detached from the others. If he was writing a will, he was not sure that he would know what to give everyone.

"I still say it would've only taken some hard thinking on Duke's part," Tristan said. "Maybe he didn't want to bother figuring out what we each might want."

Téa frowned a bit. "This isn't like you, Tristan," she said. "I know you miss Duke, too. Out of everyone here, I think you and Serenity took his death the hardest. But now you're acting so antagonistic. Why?"

Tristan looked away, grinding his fist into his palm. "I don't know," he said. "All of this just really bugs me. Our friend _dies,_ some creep we've never even heard of shows up to take his place and gets everything, Duke doesn't even think about mentioning us unless that guy's MIA. . . ." He shook his head. "Not to mention this stuff Yugi was saying about seeing Duke and this Tanaka guy at the mall. I mean, what's going on here?!" He threw his hands in the air.

Joey watched him. "Hey, I don't like it either, Tristan," he said, "but Duke said in the letter that there was an explanation and that it wasn't anything against us. So I'm okay with just waiting for Otogi to feel ready to confess."

"Well, I'm not," Tristan shot back.

"Tristan!" Serenity exclaimed, stunned.

The brunet got up, crossing to the window. "Even if there is an explanation, it's only for why Otogi inherited everything Duke has, including the kitchen sink," he said. "And it'll probably be vague at best, coming from him. There won't be any _concrete_ explanations about that, Tanaka, or this 'secret life' Devlin might have been leading." He clenched his fists. "And I think . . . when we knew him as long as we did, we deserve more than what we've gotten."

He whirled back to face everyone else. "If you want the truth, I feel _used,_" he said. "And I feel like he was using Serenity, too! He was probably using all of us. Come on, he didn't _care_ about us! He only cared about this Otogi creep and Tanaka, if he cared about anyone. I can just see him laughing in that fancy office of his, thinking about how he was pulling one over on us and we were falling for it hook, line, and sinker!"

Serenity gave a gasp born of stunned shock and the new, piercing blow that had been dealt to her heart. Joey immediately went to her, pulling a firm arm around her shoulders.

"Okay, Tristan, now you've gone too far!" he exclaimed. "What the heck's the matter with you, sayin' this kinda stuff around Serenity?! Usually you're pretty sensitive about things like that."

"Yeah, well, I guess I'm not feeling it today," Tristan retorted. "And I think Serenity should know what kind of a jerk Duke Devlin probably really was!"

"Everyone, _stop!_"

Instantly the shouting faded to silence. Yugi was on his feet now, his eyes narrowed, the letter still clutched in his hands.

"I know we're all confused about why things are the way they are," he said. "I want answers, too. But there's one thing I do know---and it's that Duke wasn't pretending to be our friend all this time! He cared about each and every one of us. Have you forgotten how he helped us all those times in the past? He rescued you, Tristan, and Serenity from the Rare Hunters in Battle City! He fought alongside both of you in Noa's virtual world. He saved all of us when we were locked in Industrial Illusions by Doom! And I could go on and on."

All eyes were riveted on the shortest member of their group. Yugi was usually so soft-spoken. The times when he spoke out like this were rare, and he always had something of value to say. On these occasions, the others could not help but be reminded of Atem.

"I know there's people who pretend to be your friend when they really aren't. Marik did that during Battle City. But I saw into Duke's eyes many times, and there was no lie in them! He was sincere. Just because he didn't tell us everything about himself doesn't mean he wasn't a good friend!"

He looked to Tristan, his stern visage softening. "I also know you're just hurt deep down, Tristan," he said. "What you've been saying, you've been saying out of anger and grief. But if any part of you really believes your words, please . . . just hold out a little longer. Please give Duke the benefit of a doubt. He deserves that much."

Tristan stared into the kind, pleading eyes of one of his closest friends. Then he looked away, his shoulders sagging. "Alright," he muttered. "I'll give him another chance . . . for now."

Yugi sighed. The storm in Tristan's heart was far from quelled, but this was the best that could be done for now. Pushing the matter would not help.

". . . There's still some more of the letter," he said after a moment.

Serenity looked to him. "Can we hear it?" she pleaded.

Yugi nodded. "Of course." He sat back down, looking to the letter. Finding his place, he resumed.

"'Yugi, I want to again apologize and thank you for extending forgiveness and friendship to me, even after what I did. Yours was only the second expression of true friendship that I'd ever been given, and the first that I recognized as such right at the time. It still amazes me that you could be willing to give me another chance, just like that. I'm not that forgiving a person. If someone did to me what I did to you, I'd want to kick them into next week.'"

". . . I wonder what the first true friendship was," Joey said.

Téa shook her head. That was probably something else they would never know.

Yugi stared at the letter, saddened. Duke had rarely spoken of his life before he had met them. Yugi had never wanted to ask, figuring it was something too painful for Duke to talk about. He ran his tongue over his lips before continuing.

"'Joey, wow. You've really matured since we first met. You're doing a lot better at controlling your temper. Of course, there's always room for improvement.'"

Joey rolled his eyes. He could easily imagine Duke saying that to him with that trademark smirk, twirling a piece of hair around his finger.

"'I'm sorry for what I did to you when we first met, too. My father had drilled it into me for years that friendship was for the weak, and as a result, I was almost always alone. When I saw yours and Yugi's close bond, I was jealous, even bitter. It's no excuse for what I did. But even when I was at my worst, you never lost hold of your dignity and your honor.'"

Joey sobered, looking down at his hands. That all seemed so long ago now, in another lifetime.

_Duke . . . you grew up a lot yourself,_ he thought. _After you started hanging out with us, you weren't the same jerk who made me kneel on the floor and bark when I lost that stupid bet. I'm proud to call you my friend, and I'll keep doing that even though you're gone._

"'Serenity, you're probably going to hear a lot of things about me, some of it stuff you might not understand until you're older. I've collected enemies over the years, people who would like nothing better than to spread rumors about my integrity---or lack thereof. I'll admit it's true that I've enjoyed flirting with girls. Some of them I've taken on a date or two. But I've never done anything that would compromise their virtue.'"

". . . I've never believed those rumors," Serenity whispered. "I know you weren't like that, Duke."

Tristan muttered something unintelligible.

"'You'll probably also hear that you never meant anything to me, that you were just another girl to flirt with. Maybe you've already heard it, from certain people. But it's not true. I saw from the start that there was something different about you, something that set you apart from the fangirls I usually associate with. I wanted to get to know you better. And as I have, my feelings for you have grown. I love you, Serenity. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise.'"

Serenity looked away, her shoulders shaking as the tears broke free.

Tristan stared at the floor. _He could be lying,_ he thought to himself. _I've never believed that he really loved her. But I guess . . . I could be wrong. . . . Why would he go to so much trouble, in effect reaching out to her from the grave, if he didn't care?_

"'Tristan, ha, thought I'd forgotten about you, didn't you?'"

"No, I didn't," Tristan grumbled.

"'Look, take care of Serenity. She's going to need you now. And don't be afraid to speak up more. You miss out on opportunities because you don't act quick enough or you let people walk all over you.'"

_People like you,_ Tristan could not help thinking. But he tried to push the anger away. Duke had told him to take care of Serenity, and of course he had already intended to do that. It would be hard to take care of anyone when he kept seeing red.

"'Téa, thanks for your company. We didn't talk a whole lot, but I remember our conversation the night I saved you from those creeps. Keep going after your dreams, no matter what the obstacles are in your way.'"

Yugi stopped reading and looked to Téa in surprise. "When was that?" he asked.

Everyone else turned to look as well. Though they were mostly just stunned, Tristan was even less pleased. In his current state of mind, it looked like one more secret involving Duke that had been kept from all of them---and by one of their own.

Téa looked down, toying with the hem of her skirt. "It was a few months ago or more," she said. "I don't know . . . I just never mentioned it." Maybe because it had seemed like a private encounter between the two of them, something not really meant to be shared. She had understood Duke a little better after that evening, and she felt that he had come to know her more, too.

Yugi gave a slow nod, sensing that he should not pry.

"'Bakura, I never knew you as much as I knew everyone else, but you've been a good friend too. We had some crazy adventures back in the day, didn't we? Stick with Yugi and the others; you can't go wrong with them.'"

Oreo merowed. Bakura petted her back as her tail whipped around his arm.

"I wish I could have known him better," he said.

"I wish we all could've," Joey said.

Yugi glanced over the last paragraph. His voice caught in his throat as he read.

"'Well, I guess that's it. There's a lot I didn't know how to say, but that can wait for some other time. I'll say Hi to Atem if I see him.

"'Duke.'"

Yugi leaned back, letting the letter resume its creased position. "Goodbye, Duke Devlin," he whispered.

The others bowed their heads. Tristan gripped his arms, but otherwise did not show any outward indication that he was still angry.

_Goodbye,_ he echoed in his mind. _Even though I'm mad as heck at you right now . . . I still miss you._

_I'm just stupid like that._

****

The Black Crown employee frowned, staring into the bottom of the recently-opened box. "What's this doing in here?!" the worker uttered in disbelief, reaching to pull out the small bag. From the stunned and then angry eyes, it was clear that it was not a surprise that the bag existed, only that it was in that particular box.

A sound in the shadows brought the person's attention up. David Tanaka stepped out, a confident smirk gracing his features.

"I admit, I put it there as a plant," he said. "It's just old baking powder. I was hoping to attract the attention of someone involved in this clever scheme."

The employee undid the bag enough to reveal the white substance inside. "You knew?!" was the stunned accusation.

"I'd been observing for a while," David said. "Your operation looks very profitable. I've been wanting in on it, but with Mr. Devlin investigating you, I didn't know how to proceed. Now he's out of the way, but Ryuuji Otogi has appeared. As we've both seen, he clearly means business. If he learns what you're up to, he'll show no mercy. You'll have to close shop."

The eyes narrowed. "What are you proposing?"

"I could be a worthwhile ally for you," David said. "I could keep him from learning about the smuggling, and about the part your ring played in murdering Mr. Devlin. All I ask for in return is a percentage of the earnings."

A faint smirk. "You're that greedy? Well . . . we can always use your kind. I'll talk to those higher in authority. They'll want to talk to you in person."

"Good," David said. "I'm sure we can find a solution reasonable to all of us."

"Of course," smiled the other. "Very reasonable indeed."

They shook hands in the darkness.


	6. One Misstep, One Slip Before You Know It

**Notes: Okay, I'm guessing my readers have been anxious for some action. It had to be built up to, but here's some. And I love **_**Yu-Gi-Oh R**_**! Say hello to my favorite card professor in this chapter.**

**Chapter Six**

**One Misstep, One Slip Before You Know It**

It was around lunchtime when Duke decided to visit the apartment. He needed to go, so it would not look suspicious if anyone was watching him, but also, he wanted to see if everything was still intact---including the other copy of the damning information that he had hidden. It was bound to be a surreal experience; he had not been there since the morning of the day that the attempt had been made on his life. Now the police had been there, going through all of his things. And to top it off, he would not even be returning home as himself.

He sighed as he took the key off his desk. He could not banish the image of Serenity's saddened eyes from his mind, as she had so innocently asked him if Duke had said nice things about them. He could only hope that the letter would in some way assure her and the rest that he had not meant to do anything hurtful.

And the way she had looked at him . . . imploring him to be careful . . . it worried him. Could she suspect? Could she see through the punk makeup and the brown eyes and hear through the altered voice? If she had even the slightest inclination that he was her lost friend---as he knew she thought of him as that and nothing more---would she keep quiet? Would she understand the danger it could put everyone in were she to say something? He would do nothing more unless he had to, but depending on how she seemed to behave in the near future, he might have to take more drastic steps to convince her that he was not Duke Devlin.

He clenched his fist around the key as he crossed to the door. David's words from earlier were still in his mind. _You're hurting too._ Of course he was, but that seemed of little consequence. He still felt like he was being cruel. And that was the last thing he wanted. He had felt somewhat like an outsider, but that did not mean he ever wanted to hurt Yugi and the others. His feelings were likely his own fault, anyway---though he imagined there was some truth to the original four friends having a closeness that was almost impossible to penetrate. While they would honestly accept the others as their friends, they would have a bond strengthened from being together at the very beginning. And that would not be anyone's fault---Duke's or theirs.

He stepped into the hall, pulling the door shut behind him. As he walked back down the hall, he casually glanced at David's office. The door was half-open, but the room was empty. The assistant manager next-door, however, was in his office and jerked to attention as Otogi walked past.

"O-oh, Mr. Otogi," he stammered. "I hope you're finding everything here to your satisfaction." He had met with the new owner right after the reading of the will, and though he had found himself somewhat nervous after hearing tales from the employees, he had not fared too badly. Otogi was stern but fair.

"The store seems to be running fine so far," Otogi replied. "Is the inventory almost finished?"

Jared nodded. "Yes, sir. I think it is finished now. Mr. Tanaka lingered to make sure it was done and then took a lunch break."

"Good." Otogi headed for the stairs. "I should be back within an hour. You're in charge until either then or when Tanaka returns, whichever is first." He paused. "Oh, and one thing---don't twist your tie." He looked back to Jared. "If you insist on wearing it, then you'd better keep it in good condition."

Jared flushed. "Yes, Mr. Otogi."

With that the punk disappeared down the stairs and out the back door.

It would not have taken an especially long time to walk to his apartment; he had done that all the time in the past. But he wanted to get there as soon as possible, not to mention he was still concerned about suspicion on the part of the smugglers if they saw him engaging in any habit similar to Duke's. And so, since he was not supposed to be very familiar with Domino City yet, he hailed a cab and was driven to the address.

"Just wait for me when we get there," he told the cabbie as they started out. "It shouldn't take long."

The driver nodded. "So you're the fella taking over for Duke Devlin," he mused. "I guess you've got your hands full now."

His passenger frowned. "What do you mean?" he asked.

The cabbie gave a shrug. "Just that it's a lot of responsibility to suddenly get handed. Devlin may have only owned this one store, but he was the creator of one of the big-time games around here. I hear he was pretty loaded from that. And now you've got all his profits."

Otogi's eyes narrowed. "I hope you're not insinuating something," he said, his tone cold and filled with warning.

The man stiffened. "Oh no, that wasn't what I meant!" he gasped. "It is weird what happened to the guy, though."

"He was murdered." Otogi kept his voice low and dangerous. "And whoever did it should watch out. The police will catch them sooner or later." He would not give any indication that he himself was going to get involved in the case. Then the smugglers could get concerned that he would learn of them just as Duke had and try to kill him too. Instead he would make it sound like he had complete faith in the police department.

"I sure hope so," the cabbie frowned. "There's so many creeps who get away with murder every year."

He turned a corner. "Here we are," he announced. "This is the place you want."

Otogi looked out the window. Yes, this was the place---his home ever since he had moved to this neighborhood. It looked the same as always from the outside. Not that he had expected it would change in a couple of days.

"So you want me to wait?" The driver broke into his thoughts. "It'll cost you."

"I know," Otogi said, his voice harsh again. "Don't worry, you'll get your money." With that he exited the cab and calmly walked to the building's doors, though he really wanted to run. He could feel the cab driver's gaze on his back as he went.

It was a familiar yet strange journey into the main lobby and up two flights of stairs. There was an elevator, but he preferred to just walk. The steps were carpeted, muffling the sound of his ascent.

He took the key out of his pocket as he reached the third floor, gripping it between his fingers. The corridor was vacant, the other level's dwellers either inside or away. He knew them by name, and could point out whose apartment was whose, but he had never been close to any of them. In his new life, he did not intend for that to change.

His apartment's door was shut, of course. The police had finished their business some time ago. That was just fine with him; he did not walk to talk to anyone, especially them. He was still uncertain whether one of the officers on the case was a friend or a foe, though he did at least feel fairly confident that Gabrielle Valesquez was on his side. That, however, might not be enough.

He inserted the key in the lock, then turned it and the knob. But as he swung the door open, his mouth dropped open too.

An indoor whirlwind had struck. The couch was upsidedown, the easy chair on its side. The curtain rod was half-torn from the wall, the drapes hanging onto the floor. Bookcases had been overturned, their contents sprawled in every direction. Clothes from the bedroom were everywhere---dangling off of the furniture, the curtain rod, and the doors. And the papers from his desk had been thrown hither and thither. One was even peeking from where it had been caught by the chair cushion.

The police would not have left this mess. _Someone else had been here!_ And they might even still be in here. Had they found that other copy of the information? Before he could look for it, he would have to make sure he was alone.

Leaving the door open for a quick escape, he stepped into the room. Quietly he bent down, retrieving two dice that had been thrown to the floor. If necessary, maybe he could use them as weapons just as he had in his old life.

He advanced through the room, peering into the equally-disastrous but empty kitchenette before continuing to the hallway. Then he glanced through the half-open doorway to the bedroom. It was in just as much of a mess, he noted as he creeped into the room. The bed was overturned, the covers and pillow angrily thrown about and torn. The mattress was slashed, stuffing in all directions like an indoor snowstorm. The nightstand, chest of drawers, and desk chair were also scattered, along with every bit of clothing that was not already in the living room.

The only thing undamaged was the computer, which was flashing an error message about an unknown file name. He frowned at it, but in spite of himself a smirk came over his features.

_You really thought I'd leave information like that on the computer for you to find?_ he thought to himself.

With a sigh he turned away. Either the perpetrator was not done yet or they wanted the computer to sell it, since it was still in working condition.

. . . Or they had been interrupted.

He looked towards the open door of the connecting bathroom. Was someone in there? He took a step forward. A nippy breeze was wafting out at him. The window was open. Someone could have come in that way . . . or left.

He had thought he was prepared for anything. But as he stood at the doorway, taking in the empty room, his blood ran cold. A message had been left on the mirror, written with something red.

_We know you're alive, Duke Devlin._

_We won't make mistakes next time._

****

David looked to the other people in the darkened room, memorizing what he could see of each face. Some of them he knew, some were unfamiliar. All were part of the smuggling ring, though not all were employees of the Black Crown. David was not sure if they always met in this abandoned warehouse at the Domino Pier or if they had chosen this location for the time being until they could decide whether he was trustworthy or not. He suspected the latter.

One of the unfamiliar ones, a man with short black hair and a goatee, stepped forward. "So, I'm told you want in on this deal, David Tanaka," he said, "despite having a very profitable legal occupation as the manager of the Black Crown."

David shrugged. "It pays well, but there's no harm in having even more money on hand," he said. "I know how much your kind tends to make."

"It'll be 'our kind' if you really join us," smirked one of the employees.

David looked over, matching the smirk with one of his own. "I figured out who a couple of the members were," he said, "but I never did suspect you."

"We make it our business to be stealthy," was the reply. "And it looks like we weren't stealthy enough."

"Settle down," said the man with the goatee, using an accompanying gesture. "Maybe it isn't a matter of our stealth, but Mr. Tanaka's intelligence." He peered at the other. "Or maybe a matter of Mr. Devlin not keeping things as quiet as we thought he did?"

David hoped he was keeping his expression impassive as he regarded the other. "You think he's the one who told me?" he said.

"It's a simple question," the man shrugged. "And there should be a simple answer."

"Fine then." David crossed his arms. "No, Mr. Devlin didn't tell me anything, but I could see he was up to something," he said honestly. "So I started discreetly spying on him. And when I did, I found out about your little operation. I was afraid Mr. Devlin was going to have it shut down before I could approach you. But then your men got to him first." He smirked coldly. "Which was just perfect. Or it would have been, if he hadn't arranged for this Ryuuji Otogi to come into the picture."

"How much do you know about this Ryuuji Otogi?" the smuggler immediately asked.

"Enough to know that he's trouble," David said. "Or he will be if he learns of this. All of the Black Crown's employees can attest to the fact that he's much more hard-nosed than Mr. Devlin ever was."

"He should be eliminated before he has the chance to learn anything," came a growl from the side of the room.

The man with the goatee glowered in that direction. "That's far too risky," he said. "The police are already looking for Mr. Devlin's killers. If there's a second murder, they'll know that something's going on right at the store. We're just lucky they haven't really pursued that angle much---yet."

David nodded. "This is why you need me," he said. "I can keep Otogi-san from learning that anything is amiss. The smuggling can continue right under his nose."

A nod from the goatee man. "Yes," he mused. "I can see how you could be valuable to us. But . . ." He snapped his fingers.

Without warning a hand holding a knife flew out of the dark, the blade pressing against David's throat. A second arm wrapped around his waist, holding him in place. David gasped, tensing under the feel of the cold metal. The slightest movement could slit his throat. He did not even dare speak. Instead he stared at the man in front of him, his heart racing in his ears.

Goatee Man grinned, his teeth gleaming in the dim light. "Mr. Tanaka, you were Mr. Devlin's manager from the moment he opened the Black Crown," he said. "Some of us have done our research; we know of your shared past."

The blade pressed a little harder, just enough that it would be sure to leave a mark. Struggling to overcome his fear, David tried to speak.

"I . . . I . . . we . . . grew up on the same street," he rasped. "That doesn't mean . . ."

"It doesn't mean diddly-squat, I know," said Goatee Man. "But Mr. Devlin didn't even hire out for a manager; he just chose you. That's gotta say something about how much he trusted you."

"I . . . he . . . he liked my business skills," David said. The person behind him held on tighter, the grip on the weapon never wavering. Clearly, this was a cold-hearted being, maybe even the one who had set up the car bomb.

What was he going to do?! He had considered, albeit briefly, that maybe they would not buy his story. But he had not thought that he would not be able to talk his way out of it. Still . . . the man with the goatee had said they could not afford a second murder. This was being done just to rattle him, wasn't it? They would surely let him go, even if only because of the risks of killing another person.

"We weren't friends," he tried to say now. "It was a business relationship, nothing more."

"I'm sure you're right, Mr. Tanaka," Goatee Man said. "But around here, we like to make sure. And we'll be keeping a close watch on you until we're certain what to think."

Abruptly the pressure from the knife was released. The unknown man uncurled his arm from around David's waist, shoving him forward. He stumbled, throwing out his hands to catch himself.

"Consider yourself on a trial period," Goatee Man smiled as David pulled himself upright. "If we're satisfied by the end of it---and I'm not saying when that end will be---you'll be a full-fledged member of our organization. But if _not . . ._" He chuckled under his breath. "I'm sure we can think of an appropriate fate for you that won't endanger us."

David exhaled, pushing up his glasses. "Of course," he said.

"Go back to the store now," Goatee Man directed. "Start doing exactly as you proposed. And in a few days, we'll talk again."

"A few days?" came another voice, this one vaguely familiar. "You mean when it's time for the . . ."

"Shut your mouth." Goatee Man whirled, again glaring at one of the shadowy figures. Afraid, the tattler fell silent.

David turned, making his way towards the door at the side of the room. Something was going to happen in a few days? What was it? Possibly a shipment coming in or going out? He would have to make sure to stay alert. And he would have to ask Duke about it when they had a chance. Maybe it was something about which Duke had some information.

Come to think of it, when would they have a chance? Otogi had been willed the apartment, so he would not be returning to David's house. That would look too strange.

Well, they would have to figure out something. Obviously they needed to talk.

Subconsciously he pulled the collar of his shirt higher, hoping to hide any possible evidence of the knife. With his other hand he pushed open the door, stepping into the autumn afternoon. He squinted at the brightness of the sun as he let the door swing shut behind him.

"I hope I'm not making a mistake," he said to himself. "A really big mistake. . . ."

****

Otogi was still standing in the bathroom, staring at the message in red on the mirror as his heart and thoughts raced. Did they know? Did they really know not only that Duke was alive, but that it was him? Or did they just think that Duke would be coming here if he was alive, but had no idea that Ryuuji Otogi was him? How would he ever find out which was the case?

He scanned the words for the umpteenth time, desperate in his search for clues to the writer's identity. It looked like it had been written with lipstick, indicative of a female intruder, but he was not about to decide that for certain. A guy could have written the message with lipstick just to throw him off.

And what was he going to do now? If he called the police, he risked bringing one of the dirty cops into his apartment. But if he did nothing, the ones who had broken in might get suspicious. Maybe they would even think he was Duke, if they had not arrived at that conclusion already.

Was he even safe here? But where could he go if not here? If he was being watched, and he went back to David's house tonight, they might start to suspect that the two of them knew each other well. Should he go to a hotel? Or should he stay here and hope to catch the trespassers if they returned?

"Hello?"

He jumped a horrified mile at the sound of the voice. But then he sighed, his shoulders slumping as he placed a hand over his heart. It was his neighbor from across the hall. The guy claimed his name was Pete Coppermine, but Duke had long suspected it was an alias.

"Wow, what trashed this place?"

Taking a deep breath, Otogi turned and left the bathroom, pulling the door mostly closed with a gloved hand. Pete was standing just over the threshold in the living room, gawking at the mess.

"I was wondering that myself," Otogi said in answer to the rhetorical question. "But who are you and what are you doing in here?"

Pete held up his hands in a _No harm meant_ gesture. "Pete Coppermine," he said. "I live over there." He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "And I recognize you from the news today." He frowned. "What a thing to come back to, huh?"

Otogi nodded. "The police wouldn't have left things like this," he growled. "Someone was in here." He gave Pete a hard look. "You didn't hear or see anything strange, did you?"

Pete blinked in surprise and shook his head. "No," he said. "Nothing. Well . . ." He frowned, giving the room a thoughtful glance. "I did hear what sounded like some stuff being thrown around, but I thought it was the downstairs neighbor again."

Otogi fixed him with a blank stare. Pete laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. "She's always rearranging things---she says," he said. "I've been suspecting she's letting off steam by throwing her furniture."

"And no one's ever reported her to the landlord for all the noise she makes," Otogi said.

Pete shrugged. "No one really wants to bother," he said. "Anyway . . . it stopped soon after that, and there was a werewolf marathon on TV, so I . . . kinda forgot about it until you reminded me just now." He gave Otogi a sheepish, lop-sided grin.

Otogi just grunted. "I guess now I'll have to get the police back here again," he said.

Pete frowned, his hands going to his hips. "Why would anyone want to trash Duke Devlin's place?" he wondered. "Not that I understand why anyone would've wanted to kill him, either. . . ."

Otogi did not offer an answer. "How well did you know Duke?" he wanted to know.

"Not too well," Pete said. "I mean, we were friendly enough with each other, I'd buy stuff from his store, things like that. But we never really hung out, you know? Except for that one time when we dueled," he mused. "I beat him. I'm a card professor, so I've had a lot of experience."

"Card professor," Otogi repeated. "You duel for money?"

"Pretty much," Pete said. "It pays well."

Otogi looked bored. "Whatever. I need to get the police here and . . ." He trailed off. Something had moved somewhere in the apartment. He had heard it.

"What is it?" Pete asked with a blink. He had not heard it.

And now a wave of both panic and anger was building in Otogi's heart. He could not let anyone else get involved! If someone was in here right now, there was no telling what they were about to do. He grabbed Pete by the arm, steering him towards the door.

"I think you've worn out your welcome," he said. "I want to get this place cleaned up, but I can't until the police look it over."

"Okay already!" Pete exclaimed, stumbling forward. "I can take a hint."

Otogi shoved him into the hall outside before shutting the front door. Then he turned, advancing towards the source of the sound. "I know you're in here," he growled. "You'd better come out."

The cabinet under the sink burst open as a lanky masked man emerged with a pipe in hand. Otogi glowered.

"You'd better not have taken that from the sink just now," he said.

The stranger glared back, leaping to his feet as he swung the pipe. Otogi ducked, then flung the dice he had been carrying all this time. One bounced off the attacker's forehead, while the other struck him directly in the eye. With a pained yelp he dropped the pipe. At the same moment, Otogi seized his wrists.

"Who are you?!" he demanded. _"Tell me!"_

The man only fought against him, striking him in the shin before aiming between his legs. Otogi slammed him into the wall without warning, dazing him too much to even attempt the second attack. It was just lucky that they were around the same build; the battle was mostly an even match.

Now Otogi leaned close to the other's face, holding onto his wrists with one hand while threatening to remove his mask with the other. "Tell me who you are and who you're working for," he demanded, keeping his voice dangerously low. "Right now. You're trespassing, and I don't like that. You tried to kill me, and I like that even less."

At last the intruder slumped in defeat. "Corey," he admitted. "Corey Waters. I . . . I work for . . ." He trailed off, hesitating. "I don't even know a name," he said.

"Let me guess, someone left you a letter with some cash and told you to come trash my place," Otogi said.

"Y-yeah," Corey said.

"Did they tell you to write that message on the bathroom mirror, too?" Otogi watched him carefully for his reaction.

Corey's eyes widened in shock. "What message?!" he exclaimed.

Otogi glared. "Let's try a different tactic," he said. "How did you get in?"

"Through the bathroom window," Corey said meekly.

"How long ago?"

"About thirty minutes ago," Corey said.

"And what did you find?"

"The place had already been trashed!" Corey exclaimed. "And then I heard someone coming in, so I ran under the kitchen sink and took that loose pipe for protection."

"Was the message already on the mirror?" Otogi continued to look at him to see his reaction.

He shook his head. "There was nothing," he said.

This was not good. "Could you hear who came in?" Otogi asked next.

Again Corey shook his head. "It wasn't you, though," he said. "You came about five minutes after that." He looked at Otogi pleadingly. "Can I go now?"

"No!" Otogi snapped. "The only place you're going now is jail. I'm pressing charges, and the police are going to want to talk to you too."

This revived Corey's fighting spirit. He shoved at Otogi without warning, sending him falling back with a gasp. Then he turned, fleeing towards the nearest exit---the front door. But as the door swung open, Corey screamed in horror.

_"Monster!"_ he cried.

By now Otogi had recovered and was racing to catch up. Just as Corey turned to run for the bathroom window, Otogi elbowed him harshly in the ribs.

"Too bad for you, it's Thriller Night," Pete grinned, walking around the werewolf hologram cast by his Lycanthrope card to help Otogi restrain the suddenly-in-pain Corey.

Otogi looked to his neighbor in surprise. "I thought you'd left," he said as he wrenched Corey's arms behind his back.

Pete shrugged. "You acted so weird all of a sudden," he said. "Well . . . you seem kind of weird anyway, so I should say even more weird. I knew something was up, so I thought maybe I needed to stick around. I just went and got my duel disk from my apartment in case it would come in handy. And it did!"

Otogi blinked. "Well . . . thanks," he said, for a moment forgetting to be gruff. ". . . Could you do me another favor?"

"Call the police?" Pete supplied. He crossed his arms, looking very self-satisfied. "Already done."


	7. We Carry On Our Back A Burden

**Chapter Seven**

**We Carry On Our Backs A Burden**

David had managed to calm his nerves by the time he returned to the Black Crown. With a sigh he parked in his usual, reserved space, then pulled down the mirror for a last, quick examination. The red mark on his throat was partially visible, even with his shirt buttoned as high as it would go. But if he was lucky, maybe it would just look like a shadow. If anyone asked, he was sure he could think of a believable white lie.

He exited the car and headed for the doors, raising an eyebrow at the scene before him in the main room. Jared was leaning over the counter, staring in horror at a small piece of paper. A pen was laying nearby, as if it had recently been used to write the contents.

"Strange news?" David asked.

Jared leaped a mile, dropping the paper to the countertop. Then he straightened, trying to regain his composure.

"The police called," he reported. "They said that someone ransacked Mr. Devlin's apartment! Mr. Otogi went there and discovered it."

David stared. "Is Otogi-san alright?" he gasped. His mind was whirling again. The smugglers must have done it, but why? Had they been looking for something? Or had they just wanted to do something cruel to Otogi, knowing that the apartment was now his?

"Yeah," Jared said. "I think he's at the apartment with the police."

David frowned. "Why did the police call here, anyway?" he asked.

"The officer who called wanted to talk to you, sir," Jared said. "Maybe he thought you could tell him something about who might've done it. . . ."

David glanced at the note, then turned away. "Or maybe they think I did it," he said, with a touch of genuine anger. "They admitted I was a suspect in Mr. Devlin's murder."

"I thought everyone was a suspect," Jared said.

"They are," David said. "However, one of the officers who questioned me kept giving me black looks. I could tell he really thought I was involved somehow, or at least, that I knew who might be."

"But you would never hurt Mr. Devlin!" Jared gasped.

"I know. It's an insult." David stalked to the door. "But I'm going to the apartment anyway. I should see exactly what they want with me."

Jared nodded. "Mr. Tanaka . . . if you don't mind my asking . . ." He hesitated.

David glanced over his shoulder. "Yes?" he asked in surprise.

". . . Do you think Mr. Otogi suspects you?" Jared looked embarrassed to be inquiring, but also sad at the thought.

David looked away. "I couldn't say," he said, sadness slipping into his voice. "I hope he believes in my integrity, but he's so hard. I have the feeling that he doesn't trust anyone. Still, that wouldn't have to mean that he'd suspect me in Mr. Devlin's death. There wouldn't be a reason for him to do so."

"No, of course not," Jared said.

"I doubt his death had anything to do with the store or anyone here," David said. "There must have been something else. Maybe he saw something he shouldn't have while walking home some night."

Jared nodded, looking glumly at the counter. "I just wish the police could find some leads!" he said with a touch of anger and frustration.

"Whoever did it didn't leave any, from what I've heard," David said, his own anger returning.

". . . Too bad Mr. Devlin can't just come back and tell us who did him in," Jared said.

"Maybe he didn't know either." David stepped forward, letting the automatic doors read his presence.

"I don't know when I'll be back," he said now, abruptly changing the subject. "Keep looking after things here."

"Yes, sir," Jared said as David went out the door.

****

Otogi was waiting outside the apartment building when David arrived. David blinked in surprise when he saw his boss, then quickly parked and turned off the car's engine. Otogi never moved from his location, though it was clear he saw David. He remained where he was, his hair casting shadows across his already-impassive visage. Only when David was practically in front of him did he look up and visibly focus.

"We've got a problem," he said low as he pulled open the front door. After waiting for David to enter, he passed through himself, keeping his voice so hushed that no one other than David could possibly hear.

"You mean besides the ransacked apartment?" David frowned.

Otogi gave a swift nod as they began to ascend the stairs. "There's a really unfriendly message on the bathroom mirror," he said. "It complicates everything."

He refused to say more, leaving David to puzzle over the meaning as they climbed the stairs to the third level.

The door to Duke's apartment was still open, but now a police officer was guarding all passage in or out. He studied the duo as they arrived, looking at David far longer than the surprised man deemed necessary. But then the officer turned, gesturing for them to come inside. Once they were over the threshold, he shut the door.

David was about to speak when he fully caught sight of the disaster in the living room, still not even begun to be cleaned up. His mouth dropped open in shock and dismay.

"Really something to see, isn't it."

He blinked, for the first time noticing another person in the room. A guy who looked to be around his age, dressed in black and sporting either gothic or punk makeup---David was not sure which---was leaning against the wall, his arms crossed.

"You're Mr. Devlin's neighbor," David remembered.

"Pete Coppermine," the goth greeted. "And you're . . . David Tanaka, right? I remember being introduced to you before."

David nodded. "What are you doing here?" he wanted to know.

"I was just coming home when I saw Duke's door opened," Pete said. "I figured it was the new owner, so I went over---mostly out of idle curiosity, you understand---and the place looked like this! Some creep was still hiding here too, so I helped Otogi here catch him. And then, of course, the police wanted to talk to me. So here I am."

"They're about to let him go," Otogi grumbled. "He can't really tell them much." From his tone, he would be much more at ease when Pete and the police were out of the way and he could speak to David in private.

"I'm sorry I can't be more help," Pete said. "I was shocked when I heard about Duke. Everyone was, the other card professors included."

Otogi snorted. "You're little more than a mercenary," he said. "And Duke never hired you, so you never profited from him. You're probably not too broken up."

David looked to him in shock. Otogi was cold, but that was not something David had expected to hear.

Pete looked shocked too. But then he laughed it off.

"Well, you do have a point there," he said. "Still, you're making a mistake if you're thinking all a card professor cares about is money. We have honor, too. And we respect our opponents. A true card professor is not going to demean himself with cheating in a duel."

"Oh, and that's why you joined Tenma's R.A. project," Otogi jeered. "I remember your name now. Duke told me you were mixed up in that mess. Real honorable there."

Pete frowned. "I don't have to defend myself to you," he said. "Come on, I know you're upset about the place, but don't take it out on me!"

Otogi turned away. "When the police are done with you, I want you out of here," he said.

"Sure thing," Pete said. "But gee, you're nothing like Duke. What a sourpuss."

Otogi did not reply.

David shook his head. Otogi was serious about distancing himself from his old identity. Even if he did hold some disgust for Pete's career, most likely right now he was trying to protect the other. He did not want Pete involved in something like this, where he could get hurt.

One of the officers emerged from the bedroom. "Mr. Coppermine?" he said. "You're free to go."

"Best news I've heard," Pete said, pushing himself away from the wall as he looked to Otogi's back. "I'll see you later . . . maybe." He glanced to David. "Nice seeing you again."

David nodded, watching as the card professor stepped around the mess with care and to the door. In a moment he was gone.

David looked back to Otogi. Until the police were gone, there would not be any privacy. But they needed to have a talk later, about a lot of things.

". . . There's something the police didn't tell Coppermine." Otogi finally looked in David's direction out of the corner of his eye. "They wanted as few people as possible to know. But they want you to see it."

Now David was surprised. "Me?" he said.

Otogi nodded, looking to the officer as if for confirmation. The policeman nodded too.

"That's right, Mr. Tanaka," he said. "Once you see what it is, I believe you'll understand why we don't want it widely known. Come this way." The officer turned, navigating around the fallen furniture in the bedroom as he led the way to the bathroom.

David followed, with Otogi right behind him. Even without words, the tension cut through the air like a knife. Something had greatly upset Otogi. He had mentioned an ominous message on the bathroom mirror. Was whatever it was the explanation as to why he had suddenly treated Pete so harshly?

Then David caught sight of something red on the mirror. His eyes visibly widened. That wasn't . . . blood, was it? He went closer, entering the room for a better look.

The message was a jolt to his heart and his entire being. It was a nightmare, something he had feared since this misadventure had begun. His dreams for the past two nights had been haunting him, though he had said nothing about them or their contents to Duke. In them, he had seen Duke's enemies with knowledge of the truth. He had seen them coming after Duke, attacking in different ways each time---guns, knives, a harsh beating---but always with the same result. Once they had even set up an "accident" made to look like a suicide and had thrown the desperately-fighting teen over a cliff. Duke had cried out in panic before being abruptly cut off by the impact. David had awakened in a cold sweat upon seeing him laying dead.

He had tried to make himself believe that no one could have seen Duke jump from the car. Duke's explanation of why it was unlikely had made sense to him . . . or maybe he had just tried to rationalize that it did. But now . . . now there was this. It was not another dream; it was there for all of them to see.

He whirled to look at the officer. "What does this mean?" he demanded.

"I don't know." The policeman frowned. "We were hoping you could tell us, Mr. Tanaka."

David took a step back. "What are you talking about?!" he said.

At his side, Otogi tensed. Did they think David was a suspect, or . . . ?

Gabrielle Valesquez appeared in the doorway. "Can you tell us if it's true, Mr. Tanaka?" she asked quietly. "Did Duke Devlin survive the car bomb?" She looked into his stunned eyes. "Did he come to you?"

Otogi prayed he looked calm, because the storm now raging inside was impossible to quell. _Don't tell them anything!_ he mentally screamed and pleaded. _We don't know if we can trust them! Don't tell them. . . ._

David took a deep breath. "I'm afraid you're talking nonsense, Officer," he said. "As much as I would like it to be true . . . it isn't." His insides knotted a bit as he lied, but he pushed the feeling away. When there was a possibility that there was an enemy among them right now, it would be a fatal mistake to go against Duke's wishes and reveal the truth.

Hesitating, he then queried, "Why would he come to me, anyway? I was just the store manager. There were other people to whom he'd be more likely to go, people who were his friends and not business associates."

"Maybe," Gabrielle said. "Maybe not." She crossed her arms. "He might not want to endanger his friends."

Otogi frowned. "Oh, so he wouldn't care if he endangered his manager?" he spoke up.

"That isn't what I meant," Gabrielle said. "However, he might feel his manager would be older and more experienced, and less likely to be in as much danger as the friends who are his own age or younger."

Was that the explanation? It was something that had continued to bother Otogi ever since beginning this quest---the fact that though he did not want to involve Yugi and the others, he had gotten David involved and at risk. Had he tried to rationalize that David would be in less danger? Maybe it was true, but did that justify getting him into this?

He tried to shove those thoughts aside. He had needed help, plain and simple. There was no telling what would have happened to him had he not sought out someone to treat his injuries and hide him. And he had just gone to the first place his fogged mind had thought of. Still . . . why would that have been the first place, especially considering his doubts and his worries about David's loyalty?

. . . Maybe, deep down . . . he had always trusted David. And maybe he had been too afraid to admit it because his father had still been alive then. Even now, he had seen how difficult it was to ignore his father's teachings.

But he was being unfair to David, who had only shown him kindness. David had been the only one to keep insisting on trying to see Duke even when his father had forbade friendships with him and with others whom he had deemed dangerous to their goals. The others had been scared away, yet David had stayed by him. Yes, there was always a chance David could betray him, but he had to let his fears go. He had to accept and embrace trust.

_David . . . please forgive me. . . ._

"This is ridiculous," David was saying now. "Why are we even having this conversation? No one could have survived that explosion!" He looked away, his voice lowering. "Not even Mr. Devlin could have done the impossible."

Gabrielle sighed. "Yes, I imagine you're right," she said. "But whether he is alive or not, whoever left that message apparently believes he's alive. And that could be very dangerous for you, Mr. Otogi." She looked to the punk. "It might not be safe for you to stay here . . . at least, not yet."

But Otogi shook his head. "I'm not going to be intimidated by a stupid death threat against someone who's already dead," he said. "I'm staying right here. And if some idiot does show up, I'll see that he's caught."

Gabrielle's partner frowned. "That's highly dangerous, Mr. Otogi," he said. "In the dark, someone could mistake you for Mr. Devlin. Your hair is the same color, you both have some level of Japanese heritage, and you look to be around the same height and weight."

"I'll keep a light on," Otogi said, somewhat facetiously. "If you really want, Officer, you could keep a man posted around the building."

"I just may," the policeman replied. "Mr. Otogi, you would be in effect using yourself as bait if someone did attack."

Otogi closed one eye, looking bored. "You really think they think Duke would be stupid enough to come back to his place?" he said. "They left that message out of desperation because they didn't know where else to go to put it. If they had known of a better place, they would've put it there."

The policeman sighed, looking weary. "If you're determined to stay, Mr. Otogi, of course we can't force you to leave."

Otogi nodded. "I'm staying."

The officers questioned them both a while longer about the ransacking and the threat, as well as asking Otogi about his past association with Duke Devlin, but soon conceded that there was nothing more they could learn. After taking several last pictures of the mess, they left.

Duke waited until their footsteps faded down the hall. Then, casually, he opened the mirror and peered into the medicine cabinet. Striving to be completely quiet, he moved bottles, the toothbrush container, and the toothpaste. Apparently not having the success he had hoped for, he shook one of the bottles with a frown. At first it was silent, but as he smacked the lid with his palm, suddenly something rattled inside.

David gaped at him. What was he _doing?_

Duke signaled for silence, then unscrewed the lid and turned the bottle upsidedown. A small disk fell into his gloved hand. He threw it to the floor, grinding it into the tiles with his foot. Glowering at the pieces of metal and exposed wire, he looked back to David.

"That bug wasn't there before," he said. "I checked before the police arrived. What with the message on the mirror, I thought maybe the culprit might stick something in the cabinet."

David was stunned. "So one of the police officers planted it?!" he gasped.

A nod. "The problem is, I don't know which one," Duke said. "Maybe they're even both in on it. Come on---we need to see if there's any more."

David gave a dazed nod.

For the next hour, they simultaneously cleaned up the disaster zones and looked for homing devices. They remained silent, searching in every nook and cranny and on every object until the apartment was in order. Furniture was set aright, clothes were tossed in the hamper, and food was placed back in the cupboards. As Duke reset the curtain rod in the living room, he paused to examine the drapes. Then, satisfied, he moved on.

By the end of the search, three more bugs had been found and destroyed---one each in the bedroom, living room, and kitchenette.

Duke ran a hand through his hair as he and David met back in the living room. "Some of these could've been planted by the intruders," he said. "I didn't check the ripped mattress or the lamp---or the oven---for bugs. It was hard to do much of anything, both before and after the police showed up."

"So it could have been an elaborate scheme," David said. "Maybe they planned all along that some bugs would be brought by the ransackers and some by the dirty cop, or cops, as the case may be."

"Yeah." Duke frowned. "Gabrielle Valesquez was always a big help when Yugi and the others solved mysteries, but I'm not willing to count her out just yet. Sometimes the people you think you can trust are the ones who turn against you."

David was silent for a moment. ". . . More than nearly being killed, it's who did it that hurts the most, isn't it?" he said then.

Duke looked away. "We don't even know who did it," he said.

"But you know some of the Black Crown employees were involved," David said.

He sighed. ". . . I made contact with the smuggling ring today," he confessed.

Duke whirled to look at him. "What?!" he burst out.

"Most of the ones you said were guilty were there," David said, "including Rich. But I was surprised by some others."

Duke frowned. "Who?"

David told him. But as he spoke, Duke's attention was drawn to something else.

"David, what happened?!" he demanded now.

David blinked. "What?" he asked, echoing Duke's previous exclamation.

"Your neck!" Duke said. "There's a mark on your neck!"

A hand flew to the offending spot. "My shirt must have been buttoned too tight," David mused. Inwardly he was annoyed with himself. All the hard work picking up the calamity had pulled his shirt collar further down and left the evidence of the knife's blade all the more visible. He had not even thought about it.

Duke shook his head. "It's no good, David," he said. "What did they do?"

David sighed, letting his hand drop. "They were trying to intimidate me," he said. "But things more or less went well; I'm on a trial period in the ring."

Duke came closer. "Is this from a knife?!" he gasped, staring at the broken layer of skin. "They could have slit your throat!" What had he gotten David into?!

"They didn't," David said firmly. "They wanted to see how I'd react. But I don't think they would have killed me anyway; the last thing they want is to attract more attention to themselves. Going after you was a risky move. They might be starting to regret it."

Now Duke turned again, making his way to the window. For several minutes he stood, staring out at the late-afternoon sun.

"I shouldn't have got you mixed up in this," he said.

"It was my own decision," David said firmly. "Don't blame yourself; you couldn't have stopped me."

"Stubborn," Duke muttered.

"The pot calling the kettle black if ever I've seen it," David smirked.

He paused. "I know why you treated Pete Coppermine the way you did," he said.

Duke shrugged, unsurprised by the conversation taking this turn. "I told you Ryuuji Otogi would be different from Duke Devlin," he said. "He has to be."

"Seeing the message on the mirror deeply bothered you," David said. "And just in case they know you're Duke, you decided you'd better get to work right away at making them second-guess themselves. But that's not all you're thinking of; you're trying to more actively push people away in the hopes that they won't be hurt."

Duke snorted. "Why didn't you go into business as a psychologist?" he asked. "You'd make a fortune."

David smiled. "I can't read everyone," he said. "Just you, Dukey-boy. And it took a long time before I could start figuring you out, with all the doors you built around yourself."

Duke looked back. "I never could figure out how you got through, either," he said. "I didn't open any of the doors for you."

"Of course not," David said. "You've always been a tough guy. But someone doesn't try to keep people out unless they've got a lot of pain they're trying to hide."

Duke fell silent again. "It annoyed me at first," he said. "I didn't want anyone to see through my masks. In another way . . . I wanted it more than anything."

"I know." David watched him. "It takes one to know one."

This stunned Duke. He turned back. "You?" he said in disbelief.

David nodded. "Surely you didn't think you were the only one with a love of facades," he said. "I use them myself."

Duke frowned, a bit confused. "But you've had a pretty normal life," he said. "Your family all seemed nice to me. You came off as greedy and scheming in school, but you always seemed to have friends. And you didn't have any major tragedies in your life that I knew of. What do you have to hide?"

A shrug. "You know, I think everyone uses masks," David mused, "just to varying degrees. And you, Duke---I've never seen anyone use so many.

"Sometimes you're a flirtatious ladies' man. Oh, I know you really have a love of the ladies, but what you really like is the attention they give you. And some of the rumors that go around about you are not something any good girl would like hearing. But you never even try to set them straight."

"People believe what they want," Duke said. "Even if I tried to strike down those rumors, there'd be people who'd still think they were true."

"And you mix that in with the mask of a cocky, arrogant teenager," David went on, as if not hearing. "You've probably got half the guys jealous of your success with women and the other half hating your guts because of your attitude. I've heard you were one of the most popular students at Domino High. But that doesn't mean you were well-liked."

"Okay, so I'm not. Or I wasn't, since I'm _gone_ now." Duke crossed his arms. "Even the girls who professed to be nuts about me are probably done crying about my death. There's always some new idol for them to love. They never stick around; they're just empty-headed fangirls."

Sometimes he had wondered if some part of him subconsciously held some bitterness towards women because of how his mother had left him and his father when he had still been so young. He did not want to believe it about himself, but it would make sense. It could explain some of why he was so flippant about their hearts and quick to assume that they would all leave, just as his mother had left. On the other hand, however, so far that had been shown to be true. While he had been at Domino, the girls who had followed him around generally changed from week to week---or at least month to month.

If he did hold some kind of unfair bitterness towards women, however, what would that have meant for him and Serenity? Not that they ever could have gotten together; she always acted like she had liked Tristan better, anyway.

. . . He always had felt that Serenity was different than those fangirls. What he had written to her in the letter was true. Maybe . . . maybe there was no underlying bitterness towards women in general, but only towards those whom he had seen were the types to leave.

. . . But if his mother had been a good person and had felt driven to do it, could he believe that someone else would not be the same way? Even Serenity? There were not really any specific "types" who would leave; there were always exceptions, positive and negative, everywhere.

This was all pointless to be thinking about now, anyway. He was not Duke Devlin anymore, not outwardly. And there was always that chance that when this mess was over, he really would not be forgiven for what he had done.

"Duke?"

He started. "Yeah?"

"Are you alright?" David was watching him closely now. He had been quiet for far too long to suit the older man. And the emotions going across his face only served to further the concern. He was thinking deeply about something.

Duke did not answer. ". . . You know how my mother just up and left us," he said.

David gave a slow nod. "I know."

Suddenly Duke looked up at David, his eyes flashing. "You know me so well, so tell me. Has that continued to affect me all through these years? Do you think . . ." He hated to even say it. "Do you think I might be bitter against all women because of it, subconsciously blaming all of them and thinking they're all the same as her?"

David frowned as he looked back. "Do you think you might be?" he returned, deliberately not answering the question.

"I don't know. . . ." Duke sighed, looking away as he ran a hand into his hair. "I hope it's not true," he said in defeat, his outburst fading as quickly as it had come. "But . . . I know it doesn't matter right now. What was the point you were trying to make?"

David sighed too. ". . . You've added this Ryuuji Otogi to your list of roles to play." He lowered his glasses, studying Duke's eyes. Even with the brown contacts, his discomfort could not be concealed. He was not sure where David was going with this, but he did not like all of his facades laid bare on the table.

"Each one of your 'characters', if you will, embodies a part of your personality that's being magnified," David said. "Otogi . . ." He frowned. "Otogi is the darkest part of you. Cold, unkind, downright rude and even hateful. To everyone he encounters, he's supposed to be little more than this. He also embodies some of your better traits---he's calculating, cunning, and has extremely sharp business sense. But if you mix those with the darker aspects of his personality, you get quite a dangerous combination."

"I already told you I'd be careful," Duke said.

"But you have to remember, you really feel all of those things to some extent," David said. "I've seen the anger and the hate building inside you. You're furious about the betrayal. You want to make them pay."

Duke averted his gaze. "If you think Otogi's too hard, I'm sorry. But I can't change who he is."

"If you don't change him, he'll change you," David said. "The longer you live with a facade, the more it leaves an impression on you. You take a part of it to heart, and without you even knowing it, it's not really a facade any longer. It's who you've ended up becoming."

Duke looked back. "Okay, now you sound like Atem," he said.

"Well, at least one of us does," David quipped. He sighed. "Duke, I'll be completely frank---I'm worried about you."

Duke blinked, stunned by David's revelation. How often had he ever openly said that he was worried about anyone or anything? He only remembered David saying he was worried about Duke one other time---when he had agreed to help his father two years ago and had become cold and hard, just like now. David had teased him, as per usual, but then had admitted his concerns. He had asked if Duke really wanted to go through with it, and when Duke had retorted that he had already said for David to never question him, David had said he was worried.

"You can't let Otogi become who you are," David said now, breaking into Duke's thoughts. "You're so much more. You're better than he is."

Duke frowned, searching the other's eyes. Yes, the worry was there, along with other emotions---some of which he did not understand.

"I won't let it happen," he said in a quieter tone devoid of his previous impatience. "David . . . thanks. Your concern means a lot."

David gave a slow nod. There was not much more he could say; the topic was clearly at an end. His logical side knew that the Otogi facade was necessary and that Duke could not change the character's personality, but that did not mean he would not remain concerned. Still, maybe he was too overprotective. He would have to trust Duke's judgment and his ability to keep hold of himself.

"Say, what happened to seeing whether your other copy of the information is untouched?" he asked, changing the subject.

Duke smirked. "I did," he said.

David blinked. "Then where is it?" he asked.

"I'm not getting it out until after dark." Duke poked the hem of the drape with his foot. "I can tell it's still here."

David stared at the hem, for the first time realizing it was both wide and tall enough to house a long white envelope. Then he shook his head in amazement.

"You're something else," he said.

Duke brushed his hair over his shoulder. "I know."


	8. Truth Be Told

**Notes: Another action chapter. My favorite scenes to write were Duke's introspection and David's predicament.**

**Chapter Eight**

**Truth Be Told**

The squad car pulled up in front of the police station as the last rays of sunlight passed over the autumn afternoon. Yet even when the engine was cut, the passengers did not alight.

Gabrielle Valesquez turned to look at her partner at the same moment she removed the key from the ignition. Her dark eyes were troubled. "There was something strange about that Ryuuji Otogi," she said.

Bob Philips, her companion, frowned. "What do you mean?" he asked.

"You didn't notice?" Gabrielle frowned too. "No, you did; you mentioned it yourself---how much he looks like Duke Devlin." She gathered the keys in her hand. "It wouldn't have taken much to change his appearance . . . letting his hair down, getting some punk makeup, colored contacts. . . ."

Bob was already shaking his head. "There's no way Devlin could still be alive," he said. "He was blown into tiny particles. If he had possibly survived somehow, he would have had third degrees burns all over his body. And he couldn't have left the area. Someone would have found him laying in that field."

"Unless he escaped the explosion altogether," Gabrielle said.

Bob stared at her. "He couldn't have," he objected. "All those witnesses saw him in the car. There was no time for him to get out."

Gabrielle sighed. "You're right," she said. "But still. . . ." She shook her head. There was definitely something unusual about Ryuuji Otogi. Maybe she was wrong about what that something was, but she knew it was there.

She opened the car door, swinging her legs over the edge of the seat. ". . . He has a limp," she said.

"Hmm?" Bob, who was already out of the car, peered down to look at her through the open passenger door.

"Otogi. He limps." Gabrielle stood up next to the car. She pushed the door shut, focusing her attention on it even while she spoke to her partner.

"So?" Bob shut his door as well, then waited as Gabrielle walked around the front of the car to join him.

"It could be an old injury," Gabrielle mused, "but it looked more like a recent one that he's trying to hide."

"Oh, and I guess that's supposed to be from when he made his impossible escape from an exploding car," Bob said, his voice dripping sarcasm.

Gabrielle looked at him. "If it was impossible, I guess not," she said.

Bob threw his hands in the air. "Okay!" he said in exasperation. "Let's just say he is Duke Devlin, by some crazy twist of fate. What is it he's doing?"

"If I had to make a guess, he's probably trying to catch his would-be killers," Gabrielle said.

Bob barreled on, "Is he operating entirely alone? I don't think so. At least one person must be in on it."

"And that could be Tanaka," Gabrielle said. "I have a feeling he would not go to Yugi Muto or any of his friends."

Bob raised an eyebrow. "Why? Because of what you said back there?"

"That, and the Duke Devlin I knew tried to never get anyone involved in his problems," said Gabrielle. "He was friendly with Yugi and the rest, but at the same time he seemed distant, a world apart. I can't picture him confiding in any of them. If he was desperate, he might, but he would try to avoid it at all costs."

"It would be more likely that he would confide in them than in his store manager," Bob said. "That girl, for instance . . . Wheeler?"

"She would be the last person he would ever tell," Gabrielle said. "He would know it could endanger her life."

She started up the walk. "David Tanaka is twenty years old. He is older and more experienced than Yugi and the others. And Duke was around him every day at work. I don't think it's unlikely that he would confide in David."

Bob walked alongside her. ". . . That intruder Thomas and Mike brought in said that Otogi attacked him with dice," he remembered.

"Otogi said it was something Duke taught him," Gabrielle mused. "That could well enough be true."

"It could be," Bob agreed.

They climbed the steps and entered the building.

****

As night fell, Duke was laying on his blue couch, his arm hanging over the edge of the cushions. He gazed at the ceiling without really seeing it, all the while turning two dice between his fingers. His thoughts wandered as he tossed first one die into the air, then caught it and threw the second.

He was just waiting for trouble. How ironic, that he could actually be in the most danger right in his own home.

This apartment had always been a safe haven in the past. When he had first moved into it, it had been a sign of his independence, of breaking away from his controlling father. And he had used it to further assert and strengthen his mental walls. If there was one thing he hated, it was being vulnerable.

The few times his father had physically abused him, generally when he had failed to beat someone at a competition or a game, he had felt such a twisted variety of emotions. He had been angry that he had let his father down--and angry that he was being punished when he had tried his best. He had felt frustrated wondering why he had not been able to win. And even though he had been sure the man would not hurt him seriously, he had still felt fear.

He remembered the time his father had hit him and he had lost his balance, striking the side of his head on the edge of a sharp bookcase shelf. It had impacted close to his eye---much too close. A centimeter or two over and he would have been half-blind.

He could still hear his father's horrified voice in his mind. _"Duke! I'm sorry, son . . . did I hurt you?!"_

The man had always said that when his rage had passed, as if he had not even quite realized what he had been doing. And Duke had usually responded in a quiet, resigned, sad tone.

_"No, Dad, it's okay. I'm fine."_

He had known of the man's pain and suffering; it had been drilled into him even before he had fully understood the words and their meaning. He was still sure that his father had never meant to harm him; when the tortured soul had grown angry he had lashed out blindly. He had never done any serious damage, though a couple of times it had come close. But Duke had never wanted to hurt him worse, especially upon hearing that horrified exclamation, so he had always said he was fine. It had become a habit, almost a mechanical response over time---_"I'm fine, I'm fine."_

Even when he was the farthest thing from it.

He had never spoken to David about any of that. It was something he had not wanted to tell anyone. It had really not happened much, but if anyone had learned of it, his father likely would have had to go through all kinds of heartache being accused of being an unfit parent. And maybe he had been, but he had suffered so much over the years that Duke had not wanted in the least to add to it. He had preferred to suffer in silence himself, instead.

Still, he had gone to David whenever he had needed time away to clear his mind and try to make sense of it all. David had provided the quiet sanity Duke had needed at that time.

He still needed it now.

David had left now, however, on Duke's beseeching. Someone could be watching the apartment. And if they knew that David had stayed long after the police had left, it could look bad. Hopefully David's explanation of staying to help clean the place up would be believed, if anyone happened to ask him.

_"What will you do if someone breaks in, like you're thinking they will?!"_ David had exclaimed. _"You can't take them on all by yourself. Just catching that Corey Waters took a lot out of you. You won't say it, but I can tell."_

It was true, unfortunately. He knew it had become more difficult to hide his limp when the police had been there. And his right hand had started throbbing again. It did not seem to have bled through the bandages or the glove, so he could only pray that the damage was not serious.

But it would have been impossible for David to stay and help. They both knew it. When he was trying to infiltrate the smuggling ring, that would finish everything off, no matter whether someone really broke in and saw him that way or if they were simply watching the building from a distance.

_"I'll be okay," _Duke had told him. _"You can't stay; that would screw up everything we're trying to do. Just go home, David. I'll call you if there's anything I need."_

David had finally agreed, albeit reluctantly.

Now a sound at the back of the apartment brought Duke upright. He shoved the dice into his pocket as he got off the couch. Someone was tampering with the window in the bathroom again. He recognized the sound of it scraping. Maybe the guy expected Duke would be aware of him, but on the other hand, maybe he would not be expecting that at all. In any case, Duke would do his best to catch him off-guard. The window was supposed to be locked, so maybe he would get there in time.

He slipped down the hall and into the bedroom, keeping close to the wall. But just then a horrid shattering sound echoed through both rooms. Duke winced. The locked window not only did not deter the trespasser, but whoever it was had not been in the mood to try to unlock it, as the previous intruders had done. Now it sounded like he was trying to come inside through the hole. Duke's lip curled in anger and annoyance. If the creep did not care about the noise he was making, what was he trying to do? Was he that confident that he would win in a fight?

Now he was slamming into the bathtub. A low, harsh swear followed. Duke just positioned himself by the door, trying to look through the crack by the hinges.

In the next moment he gasped. Shiny steel was flying right towards the opening. He leaped aside, staring as the blade of a knife stabbed through the space, right where his eye had been. Then, with nothing to catch onto, it clattered to the floor.

A cruel laugh echoed through the room as the knife-thrower jerked the door open and stood facing the stunned teenager. In each hand he was twirling another blade.

"Greetings from the netherworld," he hissed, "Duke Devlin."

****

David gripped the steering wheel as he drove through the darkened streets of Domino. He had just left the Black Crown a few minutes ago, checking in one final time before closing up for the night. All seemed normal there, which was a relief. A bewildered Jared had wondered what on earth had been going on, and David had tiredly delivered his excuse before setting about closing the store on Otogi's request.

He was not sure what he wanted to do now.

Well . . . he knew exactly what he _wanted_ to do, but his hands were tied. He could not go back to Duke's apartment to help him wait and watch for anyone who might break in looking for him. Duke had told him to go home, but he did not particularly feel like doing that, either. So he was just driving aimlessly through the city, trying to keep his mind off of what could be happening to his closest friend.

What if someone really did break in, as suspected? What if Duke could not fight them off? Maybe David would learn the next day that he had been found laying dead. There would not be any coming back a second time.

Now he was just being ridiculous. He had tried to console Duke about his own safety by saying that the smugglers would find it too risky to commit another murder right now. Wouldn't they feel the same about Otogi, even if they came to learn that he really was Duke?

He stiffened as the memory of his last nightmare returned to him. Would they dare try setting up an "accident" or a "suicide" to get rid of Duke? Or would they be smart enough to realize that Otogi dying in any way would make the police suspicious?

The sound of his cellphone nearly made him drive off the road as he started back to the present. The ringtone continued to play with insistence, only making his nerves grow more taut. Duke? Could it be Duke in trouble?

Well, getting into an accident would not help anything. And that would probably happen if he tried to talk while driving right now. Taking a deep breath, he kept control of the car as he maneuvered it to the curb. Then he pulled the still-ringing device out of his pocket. A frown crossed his features as he looked at the screen. The number was unfamiliar.

He flipped the phone open and brought it to his ear. "Hello?" he asked, unable to keep the confusion out of his voice.

"Mr. Tanaka?"

He went stiff. It was the man with the goatee.

Fighting to keep his voice level, David replied, "How did you get this number?"

"That isn't important," was the smooth answer. "Get yourself back to where you were this afternoon. There's something we need to talk to you about." With that there was a sharp click as he hung up.

David was left staring at the phone in disbelief. One of the bigwigs of the smuggling ring had called for the sole purpose of telling him to return to the warehouse? What was going on?

His eyes narrowed. There was the chance it was a trap or something else sinister. He would have to stay on guard; going there was a necessity under the circumstances.

Replacing the cellphone in his pocket, he started the engine and pulled away from the curb.

The drive passed in a blur as he sped down streets, heading towards the pier as quickly as he possibly could. And his thoughts tumbled over each other in just as much of a blur. Was it a trap? Maybe they knew he had been at Duke's apartment for several hours. Maybe they had gotten suspicious and were planning to kill him after all. Or maybe they were going to present him with Duke's body and see how he would react. . . .

He had to get hold of himself; this was ridiculous! No one was dead and no one was going to die, either. He had to believe that. Everything was going to be alright.

The docks were mostly silent when he arrived, save for the gentle rocking of the boats in the bay and the lapping of the waves against the piers. No humans were in sight---and no animals, either. He parked behind a different warehouse, alighting as fast and as quiet as he possibly could.

The warehouse he wanted was just diagonal to this one. He walked swiftly, soon reaching the side door through which he had exited from this dark place only hours earlier. Hauling it open, he squinted into the shadows. Was anyone even there? It looked deserted. It was tempting to call out, but maybe that was a move he would regret. There was no telling who might hear him. Instead he reached for his pocket flashlight.

At that moment, a hand shot out of the darkness and dragged him into the building. The door slammed behind him, even as a light came on somewhere overhead.

He had not even had time to gasp or cry out. Now he stared around the spacious room, empty save for the crates stacked on every side---and the people. Every one of the crooks he had encountered earlier today were here now---or at least, he supposed so. Some of them he had not been able to get a good look at before. From the cold grip of the man still clutching his shirt, the feeling came over him that this was the one who had held the knife to his throat.

Goatee Man stepped to the front, his arms crossed. He looked pleased, but it was debatable whether that was a good or a bad thing.

"You made it here in record time," he said.

"What is it you want?" David retorted. He wanted to wrench the hand free from his shirt, but hesitated. That might earn him another knife.

"Just a friendly chat," Goatee Man said. "You've got time for that, right? Since you're aiming to be joining us and all."

David frowned. "Earlier today, you said we would be talking in a few days," he said. "What changed your mind?"

"Oh . . . stuff." Goatee Man waved a hand at his lackey. The other man let go of David's shirt, but not before the hapless spy caught a glimpse of the frozen eyes. This man was a killer. That much was obvious.

Goatee Man began walking around David in a slow, methodical manner. When he completed one full circuit, he stopped and looked into David's eyes. Though the gesture appeared casual, the piercing gleam made it obvious that it was not.

"We sent a man to Ryuuji Otogi's apartment," he announced without warning.

David fought to keep his expression impassive. It was something they had both expected, but knowing it was true was alarming. What was happening to Duke right now?! Was he alright?! In spite of his best efforts, he could feel the color draining from his face.

"Why?" he finally asked.

"Well, see, in my line of work I've learned not to trust how things look," Goatee Man said. "Things like loyalty . . . kindness . . . death." He took note of how David did not flinch.

"My men have been digging . . . looking into Ryuuji Otogi's background. So far, the only record we have of his existence is a job he had at Industrial Illusions' Tokyo branch two years ago, promoting Dungeon Dice Monsters. Anything more official, like a birth certificate, seems to be conveniently lost."

David's eyes narrowed. "That's not my problem," he said.

Suddenly Goatee Man lunged, grabbing David by the arms and shoving him against the wall. "What happened to Duke Devlin?!" he roared, his visage filled with a fire and rage unlike anything David had ever seen.

"What?" David gasped.

"You heard me!" The gangster gave David a violent shake before slamming him into the wall with added gusto. David cried out, a splitting pain shooting through the back of his head. There was no time to recover before the wretched man had his face right in front of David's.

"Where is he?!" he screamed again. "Did he die in that explosion?! Can you prove that to me?!"

"Yes!" David screamed back, reaching up to grip at his assailant's arms. This time it was easy to lie about Duke's fate. "Of course he died in it. He couldn't have made it out. All of us know that!"

"Well, I don't know it!" Goatee Man whirled with David and then abruptly let go, sending the poor man crashing to the floor. "Who is Ryuuji Otogi?! Is _he_ Duke Devlin?!"

David shuddered, placing his hands on the floor as he tried to force himself to rise. "You're insane," he said. "Of course he isn't Mr. Devlin! He's Japanese . . . he lived in Japan until he came here to go to school. Mr. Devlin wrote him into his will as the one he wanted to have inherit everything!"

Goatee Man bent to David's eye level, uttering a curse that David immediately blanked from his mind.

"Duke Devlin was from a mixed heritage," he said. "He was half-Japanese and looked like he was more than that. Don't play games with me!" He took hold of the collar of David's shirt, pulling him towards him again. "He could play a full-blooded Japanese if he felt like it."

David gasped. His air supply was being cut off the tighter the collar of his shirt was clutched. He reached up again, panic welling in his heart as he tried to pry the iron fingers away.

"If . . . if he is, I don't know anything about it!" he rasped. "He wouldn't come to me." Goatee Man began to twist the shirt, further blocking David's ability to breathe. "I swear it!" David's voice was coming out strangled now and barely discernible. His vision drifted out of focus.

Then, abruptly, the pressure was released. He gasped, reaching to grab at his throat as the welcome air rushed back. He coughed, overwhelmed by the sensation.

Goatee Man straightened up, looking to the others who had been quietly watching the scene. Most were unaffected or looked like they were, but a couple---Rich included---looked horrified by the cruel treatment. Goatee Man ignored their expressions.

"Well?" he growled. "What do you think?"

"He . . . he could be telling the truth," Rich stammered. "I . . . I'm sure he must be. . . ."

"You don't sound very sure," Goatee Man said. "In fact, you look like you don't approve of what just happened. Is that true?"

Rich's eyes widened. "You . . . you're the boss," he said meekly.

"Second-in-command, but close enough, and don't you forget it," Goatee Man retorted, pointing his index finger in emphasis. "And if you've got a problem, you know what happens then."

Rich stared in further horror and then fought to regain a pokerface.

David, still recovering, registered the exchange. So there was someone higher in power than this man. Had he meant to reveal that information while David was around? He acted like he was suspecting the truth, that David was infiltrating. Maybe he thought David already knew. Maybe he wanted to let David know that he was not a pushover, just because there was someone above him. Or maybe he just did not care one way or the other.

Goatee Man whirled back to look at David. "So, you're sticking to that story," he said. "Duke Devlin wasn't a friend of yours and wouldn't ever come to you. Is that correct?"

David managed a weak nod and then regretted it as his vision swam. "Yes," he groaned. If he was going to possibly make this believable and save both himself and Duke, he would have to take the ruse a few steps further.

"Mr. Devlin was a fool to hire me," he said, pushing himself into a sitting position. "He knew I only cared about myself, but he hired me anyway because of my business skills. I was willing to work for him for the time being, but I was always looking for something better. I didn't care if it was illegal or not; I just wanted more money.

"I . . . I think he was starting to suspect a betrayal and that's why he didn't tell me any of his findings about the smugglers. Otherwise he might have---just on a business level, you understand. I didn't shed any tears over his death. It was a relief, actually; I just never imagined Otogi-san would be worse.

"And yes---I can say without a doubt that he is _not_ Duke Devlin." He looked Goatee Man directly in the eyes. "He's everything Mr. Devlin wasn't. Where Mr. Devlin was kind, Otogi-san is hard. Mr. Devlin treated his employees in a friendly manner. Otogi-san sees them as a means to an end, just people who work for him and nothing more. Mr. Devlin was a ladies' man. Otogi-san doesn't have the time or the interest in anything other than his work.

"No one could completely alter his personality that fast."

The criminal held the gaze for a long moment. Then at last he looked away, staring off at nothing in particular.

"So," he mused, "you won't care if something . . . happens to him."

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched for David's reaction. But the other man only looked back with those eyes of steel.

"I won't care at all," he said, "as long as it doesn't make it more difficult to keep this operation going. You said yourself that a second murder would be too risky."

A cruel, wicked sneer twisted Goatee Man's already-deplorable features. "We'll see," he said. "We'll see."

****

Otogi stood his ground, glaring at the stranger who had shamelessly broken into his apartment. The knife-thrower just sneered right back, his shock of red hair flying into his eyes, over his ears, and in every other direction. The blades in his hands gleamed as he spun them, then stopped with both of them pointed at Otogi's heart.

"'Duke Devlin'?" Otogi repeated now. His eyes were ice. "You're assuming a lot. Are you the one who left that message on my mirror?"

"Nope," the other smirked. "But I'm not saying who did. Actually, I have no idea who did." He glanced around appreciatively. "Looks like you fixed things up good after the tornado."

"I don't have the time or the interest in your small talk." Otogi could feel his injured leg aching. He tried to lean off of it without it being too apparent. "You're here to kill me, and it sounds like the only reason why is because you think I'm my benefactor. Well, I'm not; you already got rid of him." His eyes narrowed. "And I don't appreciate it."

A heartless laugh. "If you really aren't Devlin, you should be thanking me," he said. "It's because he croaked that you got everything that belonged to him. In fact, as far as anyone knows, you might've had something to do with his death."

Otogi glowered. "Is that what you're aiming to try to prove?" he said. "You blow hot and cold. Make up your mind! Do you think I'm Devlin or do you think I killed him? Or are you just trying to get me to lose my patience? I'm a fair guy, so I should warn you that you don't want to see that happen."

"If you're Devlin, I have nothing to fear from you," said the redhead. "If you killed him, I still don't. I have my orders, and they're very interesting orders indeed. You see, I'm not supposed to kill you."

"Then what?" Otogi asked. This news honestly surprised him. David had said that he did not think the smugglers would risk another murder now, but Duke had still been concerned. And though David had not admitted it, Duke knew he had worried about it too.

"All I have to do is find out for an absolute certainty who you are," was the reply. "Fingerprints and DNA don't lie."

Otogi snorted. "And you really think I'll hand them over."

"Well, it's not like I can easily take them from anywhere else." The man smirked. "You always wear gloves. Interesting. Trying to make sure no one can get your fingerprints? And I have the feeling you wouldn't have used Devlin's hairbrush. Some of his hair was already taken from it, anyway, all ready for the DNA test."

"You have it all planned out, don't you." Otogi took a step forward. "But I won't give you anything that will help you. You'd have to take them from me. And to do that, you'd have to hurt me pretty bad."

"I don't think so." Without warning a knife went flying, aimed directly at Otogi's raven hair. He leaped out of the way barely in time, the breeze cut by the weapon hitting his cheek. The knife embedded itself in the wall.

"This is really a perfect setup," the attacker smirked. "You can't even call the police on me, can you? Then you'd have to tell them what I wanted. And if you are Duke Devlin, you can't risk getting them suspicious."

"If I'm not Duke Devlin, I wouldn't have any reason not to call them," Otogi retorted. "In fact, even if I was him, I should do it. You're annoying me."

"We'll see about that." Now the redhead lunged, aiming a sharp kick to Otogi's stomach. Again Otogi dodged, kicking as well and slamming his leg into his opponent's. The creep fell back, losing his equilibrium

Otogi gritted his teeth. That action forced him to balance on his bad leg. He snatched the wall with his left hand, steadying himself. Before he even had much chance to recover, the intruder was charging again, brandishing both knives.

"If I pin you to the wall, you won't be able to stop me!" he said in glee. He turned the blades horizontally, intending to stab them through the top of Otogi's shirt.

"I'd just pull free," Otogi snapped, ducking under the arms and shoving the trespasser in the chest. "After all, the shirt would already be ruined by then."

The man started to stumble, but then recovered and kneed Otogi in the stomach. He gasped, falling back. His injured leg buckled under him, sending him to the floor.

The trespasser sneered as he came closer, reaching for the dark hair. "Just a couple of strands should do it," he said.

Otogi kicked out and rolled away before getting to his feet. "I don't want you even touching my hair," he said, "let alone to take some of it."

A guffaw. "You lose a lot more hair on a brush each day than you would if I took what I want of it!"

"At least my brush doesn't want to use my hair for a science experiment," Otogi growled.

Now the guy cackled. "I love your sense of humor. You know that? Anyway, I think I already know what I need to know. You wouldn't resist so much if you didn't have something to hide."

"You're too narrow-minded," Otogi said. "You're underestimating how much I hate to submit to idiots who break my windows and stab my walls."

"Oh well." Suddenly the intruder lunged, throwing one knife, then the other.

Otogi gasped, bobbing to the left to avoid the first. But that put him directly in the path of the second. He weaved to the right again, his leg wobbling as the blades shot past him. He slammed into the wall, hissing in pain. For what was only a few seconds but felt much longer, the room spun. He was even less up for the exertion than he had thought.

Something warm began to ooze down his right arm. His eyes widened in horrified realization. One of the concealed wounds had opened from the force of the impact. This would be further evidence to the creep that he could be Duke, since why would Otogi be so badly injured otherwise?

"Ouch." The creep was now standing in front of him. "Here, let me help you." He reached out with a handkerchief, moving it up Otogi's upper arm before he could protest. A wicked sneer split his features as the blood seeped into the cloth.

Otogi jerked backwards, shoving the guy at the same moment with his good hand. Before he could recover, Otogi was charging at him. He had to get that cloth back! . . .

The trespasser caught hold of Otogi's wrist, swinging the younger man effortlessly in a semi-circle before letting go and sending him in a heap to the floor. Then, in seemingly one movement, he shoved the bloodied handkerchief into his pocket and gathered the two fallen knives.

"This should do it," he smirked, as Otogi struggled to rise. He twirled his knives, placed them back in their scabbards, and jumped backwards near the bathroom door. "You'd better take care of that leg," he mused. "It's not looking good. And neither is your shoulder, _Mr. Devlin._" With that he retrieved his third knife from the bathroom floor and leaped out the window before Otogi could make it over to stop him.

The raven-haired teen gritted his teeth as he finally pushed himself to his feet. The pain in his leg and his shoulder was screaming to be noticed, but all he could focus on was how far more ill this scenario had become. Now the gang could use the blood sample to test for his DNA. What was he going to do? Was there any hope of intercepting the mercenary before he got back to them?

. . . In his condition? Who was he kidding? And if he tried to get back the cloth, it would make it clear that he did have something to hide. He had been placed in an impossible, damned if you do and damned if you don't situation.

He limped into the bathroom, idly turning to look at his reflection to inspect the damage. Everything looked normal . . . save for the blood, of course---and for several strands of hair that were now a lot shorter compared to the rest of the hair around them. And that was right near where the knife had flown past his face at the start of the fight.

The creep had clipped his hair all the way back then. He had known he had what he needed, but he had lingered just to try to get Otogi's goat. And now he had that blood sample as well.

Otogi swore under his breath.

The jerk was right, too---he could not go to the police.

Actually, speaking of the police. . . . Since the smuggling ring had at least one dirty cop---likely several---among their ranks, why wouldn't this task have been left to them? He knew they were running checks on his identity. And if they were not satisfied with what they found, they could probably find a way to drag him in for fingerprinting or some such thing. The dirty cops might even be capable of making something up as a reason to do it.

. . . Unless they were too concerned over what Otogi could legally do to them if they happened to be wrong.

. . . Or unless the other members of the smuggling ring did not fully trust the supposed criminal police officers. Maybe they trusted their other resources more.

He turned away, the autumn breeze wafting through the hole and onto his bare arms. He barely noticed the chill, instead running his good hand into his bangs.

"I'm going to have to get that window fixed," he muttered to himself.


	9. Better I Should Know

**Notes: The details of the places described near the end of the second scene envision an area that is still very dear to my heart. It all exists as depicted, save for the fact that the schoolgrounds are arranged a bit different now. I prefer the way it looked before, and that is the way I've chosen to show it.**

**Chapter Nine**

**Better I Should Know**

David was still on the floor in the warehouse, surrounded by the smugglers and murderers who were his greatest enemies---though he was trying to pretend that they were allies. He did not dare try to get up; Goatee Man was staring him down, his hairy arms crossed. The other criminals were silent as they watched, apparently waiting for a signal from their leader that they could speak. They were too afraid to step out of line, but David was growing impatient.

"What are we waiting for?" he demanded at last.

Goatee Man sneered at him. "A phone call," he said.

And almost as soon as the words were out of his mouth, a cellphone rang somewhere nearby. He dug into his pocket, pulling out the device and opening it. "Well?" he asked, his voice filled with sick anticipation.

Even though David tried, he could not hear what was being said on the other end of the line. But Goatee Man was pleased. He laughed, a cruel, cold sound. David was chilled. What had happened? They would not have really killed Duke. They could not have!

And the cold feeling transferred to David's stomach. Even if Duke was dead, David would have to continue the charade of being interested in the smugglers' activities. He would have to see Duke's and his mission through to the end---which probably would come quickly. Goatee Man was not buying David's act. Maybe he would murder them both tonight and have the entire gang pick up and go somewhere else.

"Good," the wretch was saying now. "You know what to do next." With that he hung up the phone and looked to David. "That finishes it," he said.

David had to fight to keep his emotions in check. Maybe this was a test. Maybe nothing was even wrong with Duke at all. "Otogi's dead then?" he asked, amazed by his ability to keep his voice even.

"It was made to look like a suicide," Goatee Man smirked. "A note of confession was left by his dead body, one that should close the file on a certain murder case."

"'Confession'?" David repeated. ". . . You set it up to make it look like he killed Duke and was overcome by guilt," he realized.

"That's right," Goatee Man said, shoving the phone back in his pocket. "But there's something else that still has to be done tonight." He gave David a smug look of superiority. "We're checking your house to see what Otogi might have left there."

David drew a sharp intake breath. Was there anything incriminating that could be found? There were no suitcases, for one thing, which was something Otogi should have. David had hidden the files of information Duke had collected, and though he hoped it was unlikely that anyone would discover their new home, a thorough search could reveal them.

He forced himself back to the present. "What happens then?" he asked in annoyance.

Goatee Man looked like he had expected the question. "Well, depending on what's gathered up, we might have some more questions for you," he said, bending down to be at David's eye level. "If all goes well, you'll live---and without fear. Maybe you'll even join us. However . . ." He struck David across the face. "If things don't check out, you'd better start praying for a miracle."

David's head snapped back. He gritted his teeth at the harsh slap, but then turned back in defiance.

"Okay then," he said. "Even so, I think I should tell you---I don't believe that you really had Otogi-san killed. No matter how you could have done it, it would have been a risk. And so soon after Mr. Devlin's death, you can't risk anything else. You said it yourself earlier."

"But that was hours ago," Goatee Man objected. "A lot could happen in that time."

"I guess." David could not wipe the smirk of relish from his face. "However, if you really decided to murder Otogi-san tonight, then you must be pretty stupid."

He got a certain amount of enjoyment from seeing Goatee Man's features twist in rage in the insult. The gangster had been tormenting him for so long, it felt good to send some of that back. But upon seeing a dangerous gleam in the man's eyes, David rocked away from his opponent. Maybe he had made a mistake. . . .

In one swift motion, Goatee Man had pulled something shiny from his jeans and was striking David on the head with one end of it. David gasped in pain, stars exploding in his line of vision. He tumbled to the floor as blood began to run down his forehead and into his eyes.

Several bullets from what he now knew was a gun fired into the floor, centimeters away from his body. Goatee Man was crouching next to him in the next moment, pressing the business end of the revolver into David's throat.

"You want to die?" he snapped. "Then say that again."

David stared at him in disbelief, mentally cursing himself for his own stupidity. He did not even dare open his mouth to say something else. This guy might decide to shoot first and ask questions later.

At last Goatee Man pulled the gun away, resetting the safety as he got to his feet.

"That should be enough of a lesson for now," he said, his voice dark. "Now, we wait."

David slumped back into the floor. His head was throbbing. He wanted to reach and clean the blood away, but he had to wonder if he even dared move. The wound probably was not too deep. Maybe he should just wait a few minutes and see if Goatee Man would calm down before trying to do anything about it.

Meanwhile, there was something the creep had suggested, only in mocking, that sounded worth trying right now.

Keeping his eyes open, he silently prayed for that miracle.

****

David's house was in darkness as the black-clad figure stealthily approached. It crept across the yard, keeping to the shadows as it gained the back door to the garage. With gloved hands it removed a thin wire device from a pants pocket, then took hold of the doorknob. Inserting the wire into the opening, the intruder began to jiggle and twist it in every direction. At first nothing happened. Then a soft click sounded through the bitter night.

The masculine figure quietly removed his device, then opened the door and slipped into the darkened garage. He shut the door noiselessly behind him, making certain to lock it again. Then, feeling his way along the wall, he found the steps and the door leading into the pantry. Once more he took out the lock-pick, and within moments he was inside the modest but well-kept house.

He locked the second door behind him as well as he advanced into the room and then out into the kitchen. His eyes, all that were visible of his face, darted about the room, looking for any indication of what he was seeking. All looked normal here, as did the living room when he stepped into it. And it looked like he was the first one here; no one would have had the chance to take what he was here to claim. But he would have to work with only the moonlight shining through the windows. He would not risk a flashlight being seen from the street.

He stepped closer to the couch, then reached for a heavy picture frame hanging directly above the middle. Bringing it down with care, he set it on the cushions and then dropped down beside it. With skilled fingers he unloosed the backing and slid it downward, then reached for something in between the photograph and the thin piece of cardboard that had been supporting it. After removing two file folders, he resealed the backing and leaned over the couch to hang the frame once more.

It only took five minutes to repeat the process with two other pictures, each concealing one more folder. The intruder slipped all four of them into the empty parcel he had carried into the house, then turned to leave.

But instead he froze. The almost-indiscernible sound of the pantry door opening had reached his ears. Someone else had come. And if his guess was right, he knew just who it was.

He pressed himself against the wall, listening for any further sounds. The newcomer was walking through the kitchen, just as he had done a few minutes earlier. But then came a series of new sounds. A drawer slid open as the contents were rifled through. Then it was pushed back before going to the next drawer.

The first man's eyes narrowed. Did the burglar really hope to find what he wanted in the kitchen? The thought that the folders would have been hidden there was so stupid it was almost laughable.

The cupboards were also opened and pawed through before the culprit came to stand in the doorway leading to the living room. He did not have a flashlight, but as he looked around the darkened space, his gaze seemed to linger longer on the spot where the other was up against the wall.

The first man's eyes narrowed as he held himself in place, barely daring to breathe. Had he been discovered? He had hoped to avoid a fight, and yet . . . if the second intruder was who he thought, then maybe here, in the cover of night and darkness, he could still turn the tables and save himself.

He stiffened at the sight of a knife blade catching a moonbeam. Yes---it was _him._

"Someone's here," the weapon's owner spoke aloud. "You think you're hiding, but I can hear you breathing." A low cackle. "I can even hear your heart pounding. Well, if you just come out quietly, maybe no one'll get hurt."

The first man looked down at the floor near him. With a smirk behind his mask, he balanced himself on the wall and kicked an ottoman directly at his opponent. The knife-wielder cried out in shock as the furniture impacted, sending him to the floor.

In an instant the other intruder was flying at him, grabbing at the wrist of the hand holding the knife. With his other hand he delivered a punch---weak but still effective enough to hurt. The second man struggled, cursing vilely as he tried to pull his wrist free. At the same time, he kicked out with both legs and fought to reach for another knife.

The first man winced in pain as one of the kicks connected. But then he pressed the still-available ottoman down on the other's chest, pinning him in place. Again came a strong curse, this one from a voice strangled with pain. Before the footrest could be thrown off, the original intruder grabbed for the knife on the right side of the man's belt. He took hold of it, in the process tearing a deep pocket right off the second man's pants. This was promptly shoved, contents and all, into his own pocket. With a kick of his own for good measure, he ran to the kitchen and then the pantry.

His heart really was pounding out of his chest. How on earth had he accomplished all of that, after everything else that had happened tonight? And he was not safe yet; the second intruder was getting up and running after him. A knife stabbed into the doorframe next to him as he dodged the blow and dove at the door to the garage. He fumbled, neither the knob or his hands wanting to cooperate. But this creep had not locked the door after him; it swung open at last and he ran into the garage, slamming the door shut after him. Then he was dashing out the back door and across the yard, jumping a fence at the edge of the property.

He kept running, his lungs burning. The adrenaline rush would wear off soon. Then his leg would crumple underneath him and he would not likely be able to walk for a while, let alone run. But for now he had to keep going. He had to get away. Two lives depended on his safe flight.

He gripped the strap of the parcel as he tore across the front lawn of the house in back of David's, then zig-zagged two houses to the left and fled behind a large van. His heart still in his throat, he took off running again, dashing to the end of the street and then turning left.

The knife-thrower could be behind him right now. He could not hear other footsteps, but maybe he would not hear any other than his own. Or what if the creep would determine an alternate route and find a way to head him off?

Still he ran, both legs burning in protest. An elementary school was up ahead and to his right. He dashed onto the grounds and into the trees near the edge of the building. At the other end was a fence, the opposite side of it belonging to a small Buddhist temple. But the chainlink barrier was close to his own height. If he tried to pull himself up, his right hand would very likely tear. He swerved to the left again, dashing across the basketball court until he caught sight of the one opening in the gate, cut like a doorway. He fled through it, over the temple grounds, and across the street.

He was heading towards a ritzy subdivision of Domino City now. And it was clear across town from his own apartment. When it was safe to stop running, he would have to call a cab.

In spite of his still-grim situation, he allowed himself a pleased smirk. Not only had he retrieved the incriminating information, but he had taken possession of something he had wanted back from the second intruder. As soon as possible, he would have a bonfire for one bloodied handkerchief and several strands of hair in the disembodied pocket.

****

David had lost track of the time by now. Several minutes ago he had finally dared to sit up. Goatee Man had watched him, gun cocked, but had not tried to stop him. Now he was in the process of holding a clean cloth to the wound on his head. It seemed shallow, as he had thought, but the bleeding stubbornly did not want to stop. At least, however, it had slowed.

The sound of high heels on the hard floor brought his attention up. Veronica, one of the members he had not expected to find, was walking towards him.

"You got off easy," she commented. "You should have seen what he did to one of our full-fledged allies when he got out of line." There was no trace of the shy girl with a crush now; she was serious and matter-of-fact. But David could detect a hint of sadness in her voice.

"I'm glad I didn't see," he winced.

He studied her veiled lavender eyes. "You're the last person I expected to find here," he said.

She shrugged. "I was surprised when you walked in today, too. I thought you were different, Mr. Tanaka." She stared back at him. "I didn't think you were as rotten of a person as I am."

David blinked. That was a comment he had not expected. "You think you're a rotten person?" he said.

"Of course." A rueful smirk passed over her features. "If I wasn't, I wouldn't be here, with the lowest of the low."

He hesitated, working out in his mind what he wanted to say. ". . . I have to admit I've been curious about something," he said then. "And these remarks of yours only accentuate it. Was your interest in Mr. Devlin all a lie?"

Veronica averted her gaze. "He was always kind to me," she said. "I didn't want to go behind his back and betray him like this, but . . ." She shook her head. "Nevermind." Her voice quavered a bit. "I will say my shock over his death was genuine. I . . . I didn't think they'd really . . ."

"Hey." Goatee Man was glaring their way now. "You're talking too much."

Veronica swallowed hard. She moved away from David without another word, returning to her place in the circle that was still gathered, watching him.

He frowned as he watched her go. When Goatee Man had spoken, he had very clearly seen fear in her eyes and her body language. Was it just fear in general towards a dangerous man . . . or did he have some additional hold over her? If she had not wanted to betray Duke, why had she done it?

His thoughts were interrupted as Goatee Man's cellphone rang. The creep pulled it out and flipped it open, his voice gruff as he spoke.

"Well?"

He listened, a frown crossing his features. He tapped the gun against the upper arm of the hand holding the phone while the person on the other end spoke. David never took his attention away from the man currently holding his life in his hands. At last Goatee Man hung up, giving David a hard look.

"Our man didn't find a thing," he said.

David looked back. "Of course he didn't," he said. Inwardly he was both relieved and confused. Was it a lucky break? Or had Duke sneaked in there and gotten everything out? Or maybe the intruder had just not been very thorough.

Goatee Man growled. "Well . . . for now we have no reason to keep you," he said. "Get out of here."

Further relief, as well as gratitude, swept over David. Placing a hand on the floor, he pushed himself to his feet while still pressing the cloth against his head. "Do you still want to talk to me in a few days?" he asked.

A cold nod. "Keep to your end of the bargain and we'll see what happens," Goatee Man said. He gestured to the door with the gun. "Get out."

David was only too happy to comply.

****

The sound of the late-night motorcycle echoed up and down the street before the vehicle actually appeared. Then it was there---and gone just as suddenly. Its driver sped around the corner, his hazel eyes narrowed behind the visor of his helmet.

He had already been riding for some time tonight, but no matter how long he was out he could not find relief. The feelings crashing through his soul could not be quelled.

When he had found out about Duke's death, he had been out for over two hours. Somehow he had ended up at the site of the explosion, and though he had not been able to get close due to the yellow crime-scene tape, he had parked and stared at the spot for a time. It had seemed incomprehensible that Devlin was dead---even moreso since it had been murder. And he had hated the ones who had done it.

After meeting Ryuuji Otogi, he had not been impressed by Duke's choice of a successor. And when he had heard the will he had been on fire. Maybe he and Duke had never gotten along well, but he had still expected more from the other. It was hard to believe what Duke had written in the letter. How could there be any explanation for Otogi inheriting everything except the obvious---Duke had thought more of him than any of the rest of them? It was disgusting, especially for poor Serenity.

Right now, he had to admit that he was not sure who he was angrier at---Duke Devlin or the people who had killed him.

He had told Yugi that he would give Duke another chance, and he intended to keep that promise, but it was nowhere as easy as just saying it. If he could burn away the anger he currently felt, that would definitely help. But instead, the longer he rode, the more he seemed to stew about it all.

That was when a strange figure limped into view---and into his way. He slammed on the brakes, the motorcycle squealing to a stop near the middle of the street.

"Hey!" he called as he took off his helmet. "You should watch where you're going!"

The jaywalker looked up, the moonlight reflecting off his glasses. The biker stared in astonishment.

"You're . . . !"

"David Tanaka," was the reply. "I wasn't expecting to see you out, Mr. Taylor."

Tristan frowned. "What the heck happened to you?" he demanded. The older man was clearly roughed up; his clothes were wrinkled and his hair was a mess. His left cheek was red, as if he had been punched or slapped there. Most disturbing of all was the visible dried blood and the cut right at the beginning of his hairline.

David smiled. "I had a small problem," he said.

"Small!" Tristan snorted. "Man, somebody had it in for you. Where do you live, anyway?"

"Nowhere near here," David said. "I left my car back there." He gestured down the street. "I was feeling kind of woozy, so I thought I'd walk around a bit and hopefully clear my head before finishing the drive home."

Tristan looked him over. "You should get to a doctor," he said. "You might have a concussion or something."

"I'll be alright. I just need some rest." David half-turned to head back to his car.

Tristan leaned back, mulling this over in his mind. Finally he reached behind him, pulling out the spare helmet.

"Look, I don't feel right about leaving you here," he said. "What say I give you a ride home? You can get a cab in the morning and bring it to your car."

David blinked in surprise. He hesitated, looking as though he was probably going to refuse. But then he gave a slow nod.

"Thank you," he said then. He went over to the motorcycle, accepting the helmet. Then, slowly, he eased himself onto the motorcycle behind Tristan.

"You'll have to give me the address and directions before we start," he was told. "It'll be way too hard to talk over my baby's roar."

David did so. As Tristan revved the engine, David adjusted the helmet and leaned forward to hold on to Tristan.

He prayed no one would still be lurking at his house when they arrived. Part of him felt like suddenly changing his mind to keep Tristan from any possible danger. But he really had been dizzy. He had only driven several blocks from the warehouse before he had decided he needed to pull over. The dizziness had decreased when he had gotten out of the car, which was why he had thought a walk might help. But for all he knew, it would start right in again when he got back to it. So maybe this was the best idea for his health.

"Here we go," Tristan called.

The motorcycle's engine was too loud for David's tastes---especially tonight. He winced behind the helmet. Maybe it had not been such a good idea, after all, considering his vertigo. The noise could definitely accentuate the problem. He held on tight, shutting his eyes.

It was hard to say whether he was asleep or awake on the ride. He doubted that he really could have fallen asleep in such a situation, but when the motorcycle suddenly stopped it felt like he was being jerked back to awareness after being in a strange state of semi-consciousness. He sat up, blinking the tiredness out of his eyes.

Tristan removed his helmet, studying the house they were in front of. "This is it, right?" he asked.

David turned to look as well. "Yes," he said, taking off his own helmet. "Thanks." He started to climb down.

"No problem." Tristan watched him. "You sure you don't want to see a doctor?"

"I'm sure. In the morning I'll be good as new." David moved to start up the walk, but then hesitated. Tristan seemed hesitant as well, as if there was something he wanted to say.

"Is something wrong?" David asked.

Tristan looked down, fumbling with the strap on his helmet. "Tanaka . . . you said earlier that you just worked with Duke, right?" he said. "That you weren't his friend?"

David looked at him in surprise. Of all questions, he had never anticipated that one. "That's right," he said. "Why?"

Tristan glowered at the strap as though it had done him a serious wrong. "No reason," he said. "I just wondered. That's all."

David crossed his arms. "You think Mr. Devlin did wrong by you," he said.

Tristan's head snapped up, stunned shock registering in his eyes. "How do you . . ."

"It's actually pretty obvious," David said. "Mr. Taylor, I don't know what was in that letter he gave you, but I do know he thought of you and the others as friends. He wouldn't deliberately do anything to hurt you."

Tristan averted his gaze. "Yeah, well . . ." He moved to put on the helmet. "He acted like he thought a lot of you."

"He liked my business skills," David said. "That has nothing to do with what he thought of me personally."

"I guess not." Discouraged, Tristan put on the helmet and adjusted the strap. But he could not resist asking another question.

"Did you ever have lunch together?"

David froze. What kind of question was that? And what would it matter if they had?

"Maybe a few times," he said, "to talk about business." He peered at the teen. "You're certainly curious."

Embarrassed now, Tristan turned away. "Nevermind." He revved the engine. "Maybe I'll see you later."

"Maybe," David said noncommittally. "Thank you again."

Tristan did not reply. He rode into the night, the sound of his motorcycle growing fainter and then fading altogether.

David headed to the porch, sighing as he took out his key and unlocked the door. "Oh Duke," he muttered under his breath, "what have you done?"

But his attention was quickly diverted from the obvious problem with Tristan. As he stepped inside and switched on the light, his eyes widened in unpleasant surprise.

The entire living room was a shambles. In fact, it looked almost identical to the earlier mess in Duke's apartment. Furniture was turned every which way except the correct one. Books had been flung out of the bookcase, along with papers of all kinds. And every picture was askew.

David swung the door shut behind him, absently locking it with one hand. He should have expected a disaster, after the news that someone had been going to investigate his house. But had they really not found the incriminating folders?

He crossed to the window, stepping over two fallen chairs in his way, and pulled the curtains shut. Then he weaved his way through the battle zone to where the pictures were awkwardly hanging on the wall. Taking down the largest one, he undid the backing and removed the cardboard. Then he stiffened. The folders were gone. A quick inspection of the other picture frames revealed the same results.

He shook his head. _I hope you're the burglar who got to them, Dukey-boy,_ he said silently. Maybe the place had been torn apart because the smugglers' intruder had found nothing and was infuriated.

And maybe he had also left some calling cards. David turned, frowning at the room. Was someone listening to his every move via a homing device? It was a possibility he could not afford to ignore.

"Well, I know what I'll be doing for the next couple of hours," he mused aloud. "And it won't be resting."

****

Somewhere far from David's house, a shadowy figure cursed in frustration and anger as he hid around the side of a storage shed. He had been made a complete fool of tonight. Imagine the humiliation---a common burglar had torn the pocket right off his pants---and not just any pocket, but the one in which he had been keeping the evidence for the DNA test!

He stared down at his belt. The wretch still had one of his knives, too. At least he must, because it was missing and he had torn Tanaka's house upsidedown looking for it.

He was a professional mercenary. How had he let this happen?!

One thing was sure---he could not have told his employer what had truly transpired tonight. The man had a very ill reputation in the underworld. People he was furious at had a way of getting into car wrecks or committing suicide. He tried to be careful with his bloodthirsty nature when it came to law-abiding citizens who would be missed, but those who did not have any work except the illegal were not as lucky. If the red-haired knife-thrower had told of his failure, he would have had assassins on his trail within the hour.

As it was, now he had to disappear from this city for good. It would not take long before his former boss realized something had gone wrong. And he intended to be several hundred miles away by then. It would cost him the rest of his pay, but at least he would still be alive to enjoy what he had already collected of it.

"I'm sure that was you tonight, Devlin," he hissed to the night. "And somewhere you must be having a really good laugh at my expense. But just wait---someday you won't be laughing.

"The next time we meet, I really will kill you."


	10. I Have Sunk So Low

**Chapter Ten**

**I Have Sunk So Low**

It was an awkward, uneasy, and somber mood that descended on the Domino City Cemetery two days after the reading of the will. In said will, Duke had requested a private memorial service, nothing fancy, nothing publicized if at all possible. And without even a body to bury, an urn containing ashes from the crash site was to be placed in the plot.

Duke growled at the overcast sky as David drove them to the cemetery in his car. "Of course, it would have to be cloudy," he said. "Is that a standard for funerals or something?"

"At least we have umbrellas," David mused. "If it starts to rain, your makeup might start to run."

Duke shot him an unamused look. "The way you said that, it makes it sound like I'm a girl," he said.

"Does it?" David said innocently.

"If I had a pillow, I'd throw it at you," Duke said.

"And we'd get in a wreck," David said.

Duke blew out his breath in frustration. "Just listen to us," he grumbled, crossing his arms. "We're on our way to a funeral and we're cracking jokes."

"Maybe just to cover our uncomfortable feelings," David said as he parked near the green canopy that had been set in place for the gathering. "After all, we're going to _your_ funeral."

Duke shook his head. "This is going to be really, really weird." He tugged at his tie before moving to undo the seatbelt. He knew how to tie the darn things, but he had felt so unsettled this morning that he had wrestled with it for nigh unto twenty minutes. He had still been fiddling with the knot when David had arrived to pick him up.

David got out on the driver's side, glancing at the canopy. "The minister's already there," he said. "But I don't see Yugi Muto and his cronies yet."

Duke sighed. "I guess it's too much to hope that they won't be coming," he said, not looking forward to the additional discomfort the meeting would bring.

"They'll be coming," David said. "But surely even Ryuuji Otogi would be civil to them at something like this."

"Surely," Duke agreed.

And then, even as they trod over the grass and approached the open grave, they caught sight of Joey running towards it from another direction. Yugi and the others hurried after him, either desperate to catch up or to stop him.

"Come on, man! Running in a cemetery is disrespectful to the dead!" Tristan yelled.

"We're gonna be late!" Joey shot back.

The clergyman watched in amazement as the group screeched to a halt under the canopy. Duke felt like facepalming in embarrassment. At the same time, he was touched and saddened by their attempt to come. But of course, as Ryuuji Otogi, he could show none of those emotions.

He stared at them stonily. "You made it in time," was all he offered.

"Darn-tootin' we made it in time!" Joey exclaimed, clenching a fist.

Tristan looked to Otogi with a frown. "You're even wearing gloves here?" he said, staring at the black silk gloves Otogi was wearing with his suit.

"Do you have a problem with that?" Otogi returned. His right hand was still not healed. He did not intend to expose it and the bandages around it for all to see.

"It just looks kinda weird," Joey said. "People don't wear gloves with suits anymore. Well, unless they're magicians or something."

Otogi just looked at him, clearly unimpressed.

The minister cleared his throat, raising an eyebrow. Joey backed up, now slightly embarrassed himself.

"Eh, sorry," he said. "I guess we kinda trampled on the serious nature of this thing, didn't we?"

"You wanted to come," was the reply. "That shows devotion to your friend. He would be grateful."

_You didn't know me,_ Otogi could not help thinking. _But you're right._

The clergyman looked from Joey and the others with him to Otogi and David. "Is this everyone?" he asked.

Otogi just nodded. "Yeah, it is. You can start."

The minister nodded too. Opening his Bible, he began. His words and message were brief, as Duke had requested in his will, and as was normally done at funerals where a program had not been planned. Within five minutes, and after a prayer over the grave, he had concluded. He closed the Bible again, stepping back.

Joey frowned. "That's it?" he said in disbelief. "No eulogy, no songs, no fond memories of the deceased?"

"That wasn't what Mr. Devlin asked for," David spoke.

"Maybe we can do something like that later," Yugi suggested quietly to the others.

"That's a great idea," Téa said sincerely.

Serenity had been silent through the minister's performance. Now she stared into the hole, down at the lonely urn. How many of the ashes included in it were really Duke's? And where was Duke's spirit? Was he here? Would he have come to comfort the others in their time of need? Was he trying to reach out to them but they were unable to see or hear him?

Her innocent eyes welled with tears. Suddenly it was too much. She half-turned as she began to sob.

His heart going out to her, Tristan reached and enfolded her in his arms. He did not know what to say; "it's okay" would sound hollow from him right now. He did not know when it would ever be okay. So he held her close without speaking, his eyes grim and dark.

Otogi felt a pang in his own heart as he watched Tristan embracing the girl he, too, loved. But he prayed that Tristan would be able to ease Serenity's pain. She needed someone capable of doing it. His own hands were tied.

He swallowed hard as his gaze traveled over his saddened and grieved friends. At his side, a fist clenched.

_I've done a horrible thing, haven't I,_ he cried in his mind. _Look how I've crushed them. How can this be right?!_

He and David left soon after. To his relief, no one tried to stop them. He had to admit he had been afraid of Joey or Tristan starting a scene with him.

David glanced at him curiously, seeing him looking to where the minister was also leaving. ". . . Are you a believer?" he asked. He was not sure why he was asking or what had brought it on; maybe it was just because of how Duke looked right now.

Duke shrugged, staring up at the gray sky. "I wanted to be," he said. "Sometimes I think I am. Sometimes I'm not sure."

David gave a slow nod.

". . . Is it sacreligious?" Duke asked suddenly.

David blinked, looking to him again.

". . . We just buried an urn with ashes from the explosion," Duke elaborated. "And the minister prayed over the grave. . . ."

". . . I think God would understand, all things considered," David said. "But we can apologize when this is over."

"When it's over," Duke repeated. "If that time ever comes."

"Of course it will," David said.

As they threaded their way among headstones, it started to rain. Duke muttered under his breath, quickly unfurling the umbrella he had been holding the entire time. Even though it was not that far to the vehicle, the rain was pounding without mercy. David ran alongside him, wrestling with his own umbrella as they went. He unlocked the car as they approached, hauling open the driver's door. Duke practically threw himself into the passenger side. He breathed heavily, shaking out the sopping umbrella before folding it up again. David did the same with his own.

"Well," he remarked as he pulled the car door shut, "you were really serious about not getting rained on."

Duke brushed his hair away from his face. "Even though you were trying to be funny earlier, I really don't want my makeup to run," he grumbled. "Any part of this disguise falling away could be a disaster."

"I guess," David said as he started the engine. "But I don't think they'd recognize your eyes anyway."

"I hope not," was all Duke offered.

****

The next week and a half passed in a relatively calm manner.

Otogi ran the Black Crown with cold and ruthless precision, but as he had promised, he was fair to his employees. He was nothing like their previous boss, and though at least some of them truly missed Duke Devlin, they accepted what was. Some determined to pledge their loyalty to Otogi, since Duke had selected him. Those who had betrayed Duke remained on guard, not wanting Otogi to learn of their secret combinations.

Every now and then, one of them would pass David and give him a warning look, silently reminding him of his vow. He would look back, unafraid, replying without words that he remembered and he would not disappoint.

He was still concerned about Duke staying in his apartment, especially after what Duke had told him had really happened the night someone had broken in. But Duke had told him that he had to stay; it would look far too suspicious for him to leave. Besides, Otogi's personality would make him angry, but unwilling to back down---which was exactly how Duke felt, too. And he did not think Goatee Man would send anyone else to collect samples for DNA testing---but he would be keeping a closer watch on them both. It was absolutely vital that they convince the smugglers both that he was not Duke and that he and David were not confederate in any covert plan to shut down the ring.

Yugi and the others went in the store now and then, as if still hoping to find some answers. They wanted to solve Duke's murder, in spite of Otogi's objections, but both they and the police were at a standstill.

"I don't know why you don't try to do something about it," Tristan said coldly to Otogi one day. "Duke would have never let a mystery like this sit around unsolved."

"That's right," Joey agreed. "If one of his friends had been killed, he'd stop at nothing to bring the murderers to justice!"

Otogi looked at them both calmly and unmoved. "I have a store to run," he said. "It's up to the police to catch the murderers." His eyes narrowed. "And I'm sick and tired of how you're always comparing me to Duke. You're just going to have to accept that I'm not him."

Tristan glowered at him. "Oh, we accept it, alright," he said. "We just keep being disgusted thinking of what ownership of the Black Crown has regressed to."

"Well, bully for you." Otogi walked out from around the counter, where he had been leaning. "Duke was fine with my leadership, and if I'm not mistaken, it's his opinion that really counts."

Tristan's eyes burned. "You know, I think you're even more full of yourself than he was of himself," he said. "I'd really like to knock you into next week about now." He held up a clenched fist.

Concerned, Joey laid a hand on Tristan's shoulder. "Hey, man, that's usually my line," he said. "Calm down!"

Otogi just sneered. "If you really want a fight, I'll give you one," he said. "But not here."

Joey glowered. "No one's gonna be fighting," he said. "But Tristan's right---you're a grade A, number one, bonafide jerk!"

Otogi laughed.

Listening from the back room, David gripped his pen tighter as he wrote on his clipboard. Duke was changing---and not for the better. David had watched him become more and more obsessed with making Ryuuji Otogi different from Duke Devlin. And the further he tapped into his darker side, the more he felt trapped within himself.

_"I don't know if I can do this,"_ he had confessed to David the night following the funeral. _"Kaiba wouldn't have any problem with pushing them away like this, if he thought it was the right thing."_ He had ran his hands into his hair, distraught. _"But I'm not Kaiba. I'm not hard like him! It hurts, David. It hurts so much. . . ."_

David had gripped his shoulder. _"I'm sorry,"_ he had replied, his heart aching for his friend. Even though he was right there, he could not ease this burden. It would continue to pain and haunt Duke for as long as this nightmare continued---and very likely far beyond its end.

_"I wish you didn't have to do this," _he had continued. _"I wish there was more I could do to help you. But . . ."_ He looked into Duke's eyes, still brown from the contact lenses. _"I'm glad you say it hurts, Duke."_

Duke had stared at him, stunned and bewildered.

David had went on, _"I'm glad because it means you're not becoming Otogi. You're fighting against that mask."_ He had taken hold of Duke's other shoulder as well. _"And I pray that it won't ever stop hurting. Because if it gets to the point where you don't feel anything, it will mean one of two things---that it hurts so much you've blocked it out . . . or that you've succumbed to your facade. And either thing could be very dangerous for you."_

Then understanding had dawned. Duke had looked away, pained.

_"But . . . will they ever forgive me?"_ he had wondered. _"Could I forgive me, if I was in their position?"_

David had not been sure what to say. _"They'll be hurt,"_ he had answered then. _"It would be impossible for them not to be. And they'll probably be angry, especially Tristan, and maybe Joey. But . . . all things considered, I still think they will forgive you."_

_  
"If they will, they're more forgiving than I am,"_ Duke had mumbled. _"I'm not sure I can ever forgive me, after today." _He had raised his voice, it gaining an edge as he continued._ "You saw Serenity crying. She was crying for __**me,**__ thinking that all that's left of my body are fragments of ash. But I was standing right across from her. I was right there . . . and I couldn't say anything about it."_

David had hesitated for a time. They had never been very affectionate with each other; it just was not their way. But Duke was so discouraged and despondent. . . . And nothing David could think to say sounded good enough when he ran it through his mind.

Finally he had pulled Duke into a firm embrace. Duke had stiffened, stunned again, but then had relaxed into the hug, at last returning it.

_". . . Thanks," _he had said after a long moment of silence. _"For always being here. . . . I think I've taken you for granted sometimes . . . but I never should have."_

And he had paused again.

_"I realized something the other day. . . . I made myself think for years that I was alone. But I never really was; I was just giving in to what my father wanted. I even wondered if you might be part of the smuggling ring, despite not really thinking you'd do anything illegal. And for that, I'm so sorry."_

He had looked up into David's surprised eyes.

_"I always trusted you, David. Deep down, I knew that."_

And David had smiled a bit.

_"I've always known that,"_ he had said. _"Otherwise, you wouldn't have kept coming back."_

Duke had snorted. _"Somehow, you know these crazy things about me, even what I haven't let myself know yet."_

_  
"I didn't know you suspected me of being a smuggler,"_ David had said. _"But I guess I'm not that surprised, really."_

Duke had sighed. _"Well . . . I'm sorry anyway."_

In the present, David sighed to himself. Duke was still hurting. He could easily tell. And his fears were not quelled. There was actually a third possibility of what could happen, when he thought of it. The longer Duke had to play this Otogi role, and the more he felt trapped, the closer he could come to a nervous breakdown.

"Mr. Tanaka?"

He turned at the voice. Jared was standing in the doorway, a clipboard of his own in his hands.

"Those shipments should be going out on time tomorrow night," he reported.

David nodded. "Good." He slid the pen into the clipboard holder. Secretly he had to wonder if anything else would be going out with the ordered games. They had yet to determine where the drugs and jewels went when they left here. Surely there was not someone in every single shipping location who was involved, after all. There had to be some kind of pattern.

Jared shifted, looking sad again. "Do you think Mr. Devlin would be pleased at how things are running?" he wondered.

David blinked in surprise. "Yes," he said then. "You've been keeping everything going smoothly."

Jared managed a shy smile. "You have too, sir," he said.

David paused. ". . . Thank you," he said.

In the main room, he could hear Tristan and Joey leaving. Tristan was shooting a final, angry comment at Otogi, while Joey tried to get him to relax. David looked over, daring to sneak a glance at Otogi for his reaction. Then he stiffened. Otogi was turning, going back to rearranging the items in the counter's display case. His shoulders were slumped, his hair slipping over his shoulders and concealing his face. But his posture made it clear that he was upset by how he had just treated his friends.

_Hang in there, Duke,_ David said silently. _This can't go on indefinitely._

But when it stopped, would things get better . . . or worse?

That was something David could not answer.

****

It was that night when he decided to go back to the warehouse. No one had actually said how many days should pass before he approached the smugglers again, but by now it seemed like plenty. He had not managed to make contact with any of the members during working hours today, so once the Black Crown closed, he just got in his car and drove to the docks.

His eyes widened slightly at the sight of Veronica standing outside the warehouse in question. She looked up as he approached and parked, then turned and opened the door, vanishing inside. Not sure whether that was a confirmation to come in or an attempt to escape from him, he determined to think of it as the former. With a sigh he got out of the car and walked to the door. As he hauled it open, he stared, stunned.

Every one of the smugglers were gathered in a semi-circle around the door, as if they had all been waiting for him. Goatee Man was standing out from all of them, his arms crossed and his eyes narrowed.

David stepped inside, staying on his guard. "I wasn't expecting a welcoming party," he remarked, wondering if it was a good idea to let go of the door.

Of course, he did not have much choice.

"Shut the door!" Goatee Man barked.

David was not about to incur the creep's wrath again. He pushed the door closed, but stayed in front of it.

"You act like you were expecting me tonight," he said.

Goatee Man sneered. "We planted a tracking device on your car," he said. "Just to make sure we always knew what you were up to."

David winced. Why had that possibility not even occurred to him? He really had been in a daze after that knock on the head.

"Well," he said at last, "have I passed inspection?"

Goatee Man gave a thoughtful nod. "Otogi got close to finding out about us a couple times, but you steered him away from the evidence," he said. "You might really be an asset after all. I'd say you can consider yourself a member."

David felt both relief, elation, and alarm. The next stage of the plan could proceed more easily now. But he had sunk deep into this mess. One wrong step and it would be all over---both for him and for Duke. In fact, what guarantee did he have that these creeps had not done other secretive things, now that he knew they had sneaked a homing device onto his car?

"You won't regret it," he said with a smirk of confidence.

"We'd better not." Goatee Man fixed him with a cold, hard stare. "You've already seen a taste of what I'm willing to do if you start to get out of line."

David nodded. "Don't worry," he said. "You have my complete loyalty."

Goatee Man nodded too. "I'm starting to believe you," he mused. He stroked his chin. "But there is still one more test."

David felt his insides twist. "One more?" he repeated.

Rich finally spoke. "Tomorrow night, some of our wares are being shipped to Vancouver," he said.

"I was wondering about that," David said honestly. Inwardly he filed the location in his mind. _Vancouver!_ Finally, they had a lead. He knew that parts of the Black Crown's shipment were also going to New York, San Francisco, and Tokyo, but this made it sound like only the Vancouver part contained the illegal extras.

"We want your help loading the ship," Goatee Man said.

". . . And that's the test?" David blinked. He had not expected it would be so easy.

"The test concerns Ryuuji Otogi," Goatee Man said. "And maybe the time will never come for you to act on it. But . . ." His cruel features twisted in an ugly sneer. "If he ever does learn about who we are---or if we learn that he really is Duke Devlin---then I'll expect you to personally take care of the problem."

David blanched. "You'll want me to . . ." Suddenly he felt sick.

Goatee Man peered at him with narrowed, hard eyes. "You're not chickening out, are you?" he growled.

"I came into this to make some money, not to become a murderer," David retorted. "And anyway, what about it being too risky to commit another murder?"

"There's ways to kill someone without that being a problem," Goatee Man said. "Like the fake suicide story I fed you before."

"It could still look suspicious." David looked at him with steadiness. "And I won't kill Otogi-san . . . or anyone else."

Goatee Man drew his gun, pointing it at David's heart. "We'll see if you give that same answer when your life depends on it," he said. "If I order you to kill Otogi and you don't do it, I'll kill both of you."

David was horrified. This was not something either he or Duke had expected. And what was worse, he could not back out now. He could only pray that he would have a chance to tell Duke what was happening, so they could plan for it.

At last he gave a single, resigned nod. Goatee Man smirked, pulling the gun away.

"There. Now, that wasn't so hard, was it?" He gave David a cruel look. "When you enter the big leagues, you have to be prepared to play by their rules."

"You're right." David sighed. "I wasn't thinking far enough ahead to realize that I'd get involved in murder."

"You'll get used to it, if you really have what it takes." Goatee Man ran his hand over his pistol before replacing it in its holster. "Maybe you'll even learn to enjoy it, relish it, like I do. You know, I hate delegating the task to someone like a hitman, even though sometimes I have to. I'd rather do the deed myself." His sickening sneer only grew worse. "My favorite part is seeing the fear in their eyes as they realize they're at my mercy. And then you pull the trigger . . . the fear changes to horror and pain . . . and goes blank."

David was thoroughly repulsed. He wanted nothing more than to shove the wretch away from him and flee. But he would be dead before he even got out the door. And that would not help anything.

"Are you the one who killed Mr. Devlin?" he asked instead.

"Bombs aren't my style," Goatee Man replied with a derisive snort. "I like to see the bodies, not have them in pieces."

David could believe that. He needed to find out who had actually placed that bomb, but he could not make himself look suspicious while doing it.

"It was a very effective and cruel method," he said. "I thought you'd be likely to go for something that was both."

Goatee Man tapped the gun into his other hand. "There are ways to have both effectiveness and cruelty while leaving the body intact," he said.

This was a subject David really did not want to continue discussing. ". . . You say getting rid of Otogi-san is my final test," he said. "But you also said the time might not come for me to do it. What does that mean---that I'm on trial indefinitely?"

For a moment Goatee Man was silent as he pondered how to answer. "You'll be accepted into the ring and will enjoy all the privileges that entails," he said with a twisted smirk. "However, we'll feel a lot better when Otogi is out of the picture---and especially if you're the one to take care of him. We're just not sure you weren't Duke Devlin's buddy, nor are we sure Otogi isn't him come back from the dead. If you kill him, then that will prove you really are serious about things and that this isn't some big ploy."

The gun clicked. "And there's one more clause," he added.

"Now what?" David asked, wondering if he should have.

"You have to leave the body intact and bring it to us," Goatee Man sneered. "So if you really are pals with him, you can't pull off pretending to kill him and think we'll accept it."

David's stomach dropped. There went any hope of doing exactly what Goatee Man had just mentioned. But he just nodded, hoping his expression was impassive.

"You really are shrewd," he said. "You've thought of everything."

This pleased the murderer. His mouth split into a wicked grin.

"Now then," he said, gesturing for David to come closer, "let's talk about your new responsibilities as a part of this . . . organization."

****

Duke gave a tired sigh as he stepped through the Black Crown's doors and into the cold autumn evening. Turning, he pulled the doors shut and inserted the key into the lock, bringing the deadbolt into place. Then he straightened up, removing the key and shoving its keychain into his pocket.

It had been a long day---but then again, every day since this had started had been long. It felt like every part of him---body and spirit---had been stretched too thin. The ache in his heart was unreal and indescribable. It had been growing worse ever since his encounter with Joey and Tristan. How could he really be doing this to not only them, but Yugi? Téa? Bakura? _Serenity?_ He had known it would be difficult, to pretend to be someone else and have to interact with them, but for all his careful planning and thinking, he had not really realized how much he would be seeing of them. He had thought that Otogi could close himself off and not see them much at all.

He ran a hand through his hair, staring hopelessly at the night sky. David's warnings were still in his mind, but he did not really feel like he was becoming Otogi. It was more like Otogi was holding him prisoner in his mind and heart. He wanted to break free, to be himself again, yet he could not. He had to play Ryuuji Otogi until this was over---and who knew what kind of state he would be in by then.

"I want to be forgiven for this," he whispered to the cold. "But do I deserve to be?"

"Mr. Otogi?"

He jumped a mile, his heart gathering speed. As he whirled, it leaped right into his throat.

Serenity was standing on the walk, shyly and worriedly looking up at him. Her cheeks were a bit flushed from the chill, and she was holding several heavy books against the chest of her long brown coat. Her hands, bare and exposed, trembled from the abnormally frosty temperatures.

He wanted to go to her, to bring her inside the store and get her warm, to hold her hands between his own . . . to tell her the truth and beg her forgiveness. . . .

He took a deep breath. "What is it, Ms. Wheeler?" he asked, forcing his voice to be level.

She shifted, looking embarrassed. "Well . . . I'm just coming from my tutoring assignment," she said. "I help out at the elementary school by tutoring some of the kids who are struggling in their classes. . . ." She adjusted the books. "I was going to meet Joey downtown for dinner, but then I saw you out here and . . ." Her cheeks went a deeper red, this time not from the cold. "I'm sorry . . . you just looked so upset. . . . I . . . I know it's silly, but I wanted to stop and see if there was anything I could do to help. . . ."

Otogi had to look away. Seeing her innocent and sincere hazel eyes was too much. ". . . Thank you, Ms. Wheeler," he said. "No . . . no, there's nothing you can do." Did his voice really sound as strained to her as it did to him? She would never believe he was telling the truth. But of course, always polite and not one to pry, Serenity would feel she had to accept his answer.

Indeed, he could hear her shifting again, trying to keep her volumes from falling. "Oh. . . ." She sounded disappointed, as well as further concerned. "Well . . . if you're sure . . ."

"Yes." He turned back. "But those books look heavy. If you want, I'll call you a cab."

Her eyes widened in surprise. "T-thank you," she stammered, truly grateful. "But I wouldn't want you to go to any trouble. . . . It's just a few blocks. I've walked all the way from the school. I'm sure I can make it to the café. . . ." She started to walk on but hesitated, still worried for him.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

_Okay? Ha, I'm the farthest thing from it,_ he thought to himself. "I'll be fine," he said aloud. "Go and meet your brother, Ms. Wheeler."

Finally she nodded. "Alright then . . . if you're sure. . . ." She walked carefully past the store, still working to balance her books.

He stared after her. More than anything, he wanted to tell her to come back, not to leave him here. But he had to let her go; that was the safest thing for her. She could _not_ be seen with him. He could not take the risk of her being harmed.

The next moment happened far too quickly and in a blur---the crash, the scream, the squealing of brakes. . . .

And all thoughts of facades were abandoned. _"Serenity!"_ He screamed too, nearly flying down the walk and to the curb. In the next instant Serenity was out of the road and in his arms, safe from the speeding automobile that had tried and failed to stop for her. The dropped books---the source of the crash---remained scattered and ignored in the road and on the sidewalk.

He was shaking. He could feel her trembling in his embrace, realizing how close she had come to death. He held her to him, not wanting to ever let go.

"Serenity," he choked out. "Oh God, Serenity. . . ."

She stiffened in his arms. She could feel his heart pounding through his chest. He was distraught. No, it was more than that---he was deeply haunted and agonized. And though she ordinarily would have tried to reassure him that she was fine, now she was frozen. The intense fear and agony she heard in his voice . . . that was not Ryuuji Otogi, someone who barely knew her. It could only be someone who loved her.

In an instant her brief, earlier feelings returned to her. That day, at the reading of the will, she had felt something familiar when she had stood by Otogi. She had dismissed it as her grieving heart, but now . . . now she knew she had sensed the truth.

"You," she whispered. "It's you. . . . It's always been you. . . ."

It was impossible. It was a miracle. Tears bottled up broke free and she sobbed, hugging him.

Now he was the one to stiffen. "No . . ." he said, panic slipping into his voice. "No, you're wrong."

She shook her head. "I'm not wrong." A cascade of mixed emotions were swirling through her heart. He must have taken on a new identity to catch his killers, but . . . how did that explain Ryuuji Otogi being named in the will? The will had been written weeks ago.

How had he survived the explosion? So many witnesses had seen him in the car right before it had gone up in flames.

But he had survived. And he . . . he had been here all the time. Every time she had cried for him, every time she had missed him more than she had known how to stand, he had been alive, not telling anyone. It did hurt. It stabbed her heart, even while she was overwhelmed with joy that he was not dead.

She stared up into his eyes, wanting, almost bursting, to ask _why._ Instead a gasp left her lips. It was all there---the pain, the sorrow, the guilt, the anguish. . . . He had never wanted to do this. He had never wanted to hurt her or any of them. Not that she would ever think for one minute that he would.

"You . . . you're hurting every bit as much," she whispered. "Probably more. . . ."

He pulled away from her. ". . . Are you alright, Ms. Wheeler?" he asked, desperately struggling to fix the mask that had fallen.

New tears brimmed in her eyes. She could not give him away. She could not tell anyone what she had realized. She could not put him in that kind of danger.

"I . . . I'm fine," she choked out. "You . . . you were right about the books. They started to slip, and when I tried to grab them, that car shot right out at me. . . . But you saved me, Mr. Otogi."

He gave her a look filled with love and gratitude. Then he bent down, gathering her spilled books. "I'm calling that cab," he said. "Take it, please. I'll pay for the fare."

Serenity gave a shaking nod. She would not refuse this time, not after what had happened. "O-okay," she said. "I'll find a way to pay you back. . . ."

"Just get there safe." Otogi straightened up with the volumes. "That's how I want to be paid." He handed them to her, then reached for his cellphone. His own hands were trembling.

Serenity clutched the books to her chest, trying to steady her quaking hands. Now she felt dizzy. She barely processed what he was saying into the phone, but she heard his voice. Even disguised again, she recognized it. How could she have missed it?

He hung up and looked to her. "There's a cab just a couple of blocks away," he said. "It'll be here in a few minutes."

She nodded. "Thank you. . . ."

And then they stood in awkward, troubled silence. Neither dared to say any more about the truth, but they were each afraid that if they carried on the charade much longer, it would become noticeably stiff. Remaining quiet seemed the wisest course of action.

For an eternity they stood there, so close and yet divided by cruel and unfair circumstances. Then the roar of the cab's engine broke the stillness. Both teens watched as it came closer and pulled up to the curb.

Otogi immediately went forward, hauling open the door for her. Serenity followed him over, bending down to set her volumes on the backseat before climbing in herself. They stared at each other one last time, neither wanting to part yet knowing they had to.

"Be careful," Serenity whispered at last.

Otogi nodded. "You too," he said as he straightened up and shut the door. Walking around to the driver's side, he took out his wallet and handed the cabbie a bill.

"This should cover where Ms. Wheeler needs to go," he said. "Keep the change."

The cabbie blinked, but his eyes lit up at the sight of the bill. "You got it!" he said.

Otogi stepped aside, looking to Serenity one final time as the engine revved and the cab drove past. She stared back, the mixed emotions rushing through her hazel eyes.

Behind them, a figure slinked away into the shadows.


	11. Don't You Come Around Here

**Chapter Eleven**

**Don't You Come Around Here**

Duke was wearing a hole in the floor.

He had returned to his apartment some time ago, but had not been able to settle down since then. He walked up and down the living room carpet, paused, wrung his hands or ran his hands through his hair, and began the cycle again.

What had he done?!

Of course he had had to save Serenity. But seeing her in danger had made him lose control of himself, his strained emotions finally snapping. Now she knew the truth about his identity.

She would never tell anyone. He had seen that she recognized the seriousness of the situation, though she still had many questions---and deserved just as many or more answers, if he could ever feel that he could freely give them.

But if someone had seen them together . . . if they realized that he was not Ryuuji Otogi . . . then he had put Serenity in greater danger than what he had saved her from. And not only her, but David. And maybe Yugi and the rest. He did not know how far his enemies would go.

Maybe no one had seen them. The street had looked empty. But no matter how much he tried to tell that to himself, he could not make himself fully believe it. It would be better to be overly concerned rather than to be lulled into a false sense of security.

He slumped against the wall, staring hopelessly at the ceiling. Where was David now?! He was not answering his home phone or his cellphone. Could he have gone back to the smugglers tonight? If so, would what had happened make it worse for him now? Would they be less likely to believe his loyalty again?

What if they would kill him on the spot?

Now he was being ridiculous, letting his imagination run away with him. They would not do that. David was fine.

The telephone rang without warning, jolting him out of his thoughts. He tore across the room, snatching up the receiver. "Hello?" he said, his voice gruff.

"I need to talk to you. Now."

David's urgent voice filled Duke both with relief and dread. Something else bad had happened.

"What's going on?" Duke asked.

"I'll tell you when I get there." The sounds of speeding cars and honking horns in the background made it obvious David was calling from downtown. "And I have to leave my car somewhere. They planted a tracking device in it, but I can't find where it is."

Duke inhaled sharply. He had not expected that, but he should have. These people were not taking any risks.

"Okay," he said. "Park your car at your house. It's still early, so leave some lights on, maybe the TV, make it look like you're home. Then sneak out through the backdoor and call a cab once you're a few blocks away."

"I'll do that. I should be there in thirty minutes or so."

"Be careful." Then something else occurred to him. "Wait!"

David froze. "What is it?"

"I'll bet anything my apartment is being watched," Duke said, lowering his voice. "We need to meet somewhere else. I'll try to find a way to sneak out too."

There was a hesitation as David mulled over this news. "My family still owns a cabin in the canyons," he offered. "I have a key."

"Great. That's perfect." Duke started to relax. "Look, I'll meet you at the entrance to the canyon. Is the cabin very far in?"

"Not too much. We could easily walk the rest of the way on the paved road."

"Then I'll see you as soon as we can both get there."

Duke dropped the phone back into its cradle and turned away in concentrated determination. Supposing his apartment was being watched, was it only from the outside?

He crossed to the front door and peered through the peephole. The corridor was vacant. Opening the door, he stepped into the hallway and then looked over the railing. No one was in sight. He should be safe enough if he used the back stairwell and slipped into the parking complex. Ryuuji Otogi did not yet have a car, preferring to walk, carpool, or use public transit, so it seemed unlikely that anyone would wait there for him. They would probably watch the front of the building.

. . . Unless they would anticipate his thoughts and decide he would use the back exit.

He gritted his teeth. He had to get out somehow. Maybe he would just have to add a disguise to his disguise.

A slow smirk spread across his features. With a little work, maybe he could pass as his neighbor Pete Coppermine. Pete was more of a goth than a punk, but with a dark coat on a dark night, the differences might not be noticed. He would have to remove all his earrings, just in case the light would reflect them, and he would have to try to make his hair wild, but he could do it. The trick would be doing it quickly.

He headed off to the bedroom. There was work to be done.

****

David looked anxiously out the cab window as the nighttime city zipped past. They were almost to the limits now. Then they would turn, heading for the canyon road.

Would Duke already be there, or would David need to wait? What if Duke would get delayed---or worse, intercepted? He had sounded so upset on the phone. Something must have happened to him, too.

_When it rains, it pours,_ David thought to himself.

He had been about to leave the warehouse when Goatee Man's phone had rang again. When the crook had answered, his expression had twisted in a horrific way as he had listened to whatever had been relayed to him. Then he had hung up, delivering the words that David had been praying to never hear.

_"Ryuuji Otogi's identity has been confirmed," _he had said. _"Now you have to confirm to us that you aren't his friend. Kill him and bring the body to me before the shipment goes out tomorrow night."_

David had tried to ask what the caller had said, but he had been told that he did not need details. He had his assignment and that was that.

Maybe Duke already knew that they knew about his identity---if indeed they really did. Maybe that was what he had wanted to talk about and why he had decided that meeting at his apartment was completely out of the question.

What on earth were they going to do?

"Hey kid."

He started at the cab driver's voice. Now they were approaching the entrance to the canyon. It was dark and appeared ominous in the night. But hopefully it would actually be their salvation.

"Do you really want me to let you off here? The temperature's been crazy tonight. It feels more like winter than fall."

David nodded. "I'm meeting a friend," he said. "We're going to my family's cabin to spend the night. We'd been planning it for the summer, but things just kept coming up. This is the first chance we've had to get away." He had a suitcase to add to the fake story. It was empty, but it was unlikely that anyone would actually see inside it.

"Okay, if you really want to. But is your friend even here yet?"

David leaned forward, squinting into the night. Someone was standing by the side of the road, but as the headlights illuminated the figure David gawked. The hair was wildly flying in every possible direction. And there were no earrings.

"Pete Coppermine?" he uttered under his breath. What would Pete be doing here? Had something happened to Duke and he had given a message to Pete to bring to David? That was unlikely, but under desperate circumstances . . .

. . . Or maybe Duke had been forced to disguise himself to leave the building. Could that be him?

"I'm not sure," he said honestly. "It's still pretty dark. Let me out and I'll make sure."

The cabbie agreeably pulled over and David alighted, making sure to take the suitcase with him. As he walked over, the other young man grabbed his arm.

"It's me," he hissed.

David nodded, relieved. He looked back to the cabbie with a wave. The driver visibly nodded, but waited.

"I'll go pay him," David said. "Just a minute."

He went back to the window and handed the man some bills. "Keep the change," he said.

The cabbie looked gleeful. "Lots of people with money out tonight," he said. "Have fun at your cabin." With that he waved and began to back up. Soon he was on his way back to the city, leaving the two conspirators standing on the paved road.

Duke clicked on a heavy flashlight. "It's a good thing he didn't get a good look at me," he said. "He's the same cabbie from earlier tonight."

David raised an eyebrow. "This is a long story, isn't it," he said.

Duke nodded. "We'll talk when we get to the cabin," he said. "I hope you can find it in the dark."

"It'll be a snap." David was amazed by his ability to stay outwardly calm, especially with the weight he now carried. He was supposed to kill Duke himself. If he did not, they would both be murdered by Goatee Man.

They could not both go on the run, could they? He had just got into the ring. He could potentially get the information needed to bring these guys down if he stayed. But how could he stay when the price was Duke's life?

The sound of their rapid footsteps, along with the cool autumn breeze, were the only sounds echoing through the canyon. David knew the way very well, and with Duke right at his side, it did not take long before they were going off the road and up the dirt path leading to the modern, two-story cabin. He took out his key as they climbed to the door, then inserted it in the lock and thrust the door open.

Duke walked in ahead of him, studying the darkened room. David quickly followed, switching on the light and shutting and locking the door behind them.

"We haven't been back here for a while, but everything still looks in good condition," he said, advancing into the room and pulling the sheet off of a couch.

Duke sank onto it, shrugging off his black coat. David sat next to him, more weary and drained than he had even realized.

"So what's your news?" Duke asked.

David sighed. "I'm in the ring, but I'm supposed to kill you," he said. "Within twenty-four hours. And I have to take the body back to them."

Duke stared at him. "Within _twenty-four hours?!_" he gasped.

David gave a nod. "Originally they didn't know if I'd ever have to act on it, but I had to vow I'd do it to get in," he said. "Then that creepy second-in-command guy got a call and told me your identity was confirmed, so I had my assignment to kill you immediately."

Duke slumped back into the couch. "I know why he got that call," he said.

David looked to him in concern. The younger man had gone pale. "What happened?!" he demanded.

"Serenity knows who I am." Duke's voice was a weak croak. "And it looks like someone really was watching us."

Now it was David's turn to stare. "More explanations are in order," he said.

Duke nodded.

For the next thirty minutes they both elaborated on their misadventures that evening, much to each other's shock and dismay. For the hour after that, they struggled to plan what they could do about it.

"I could pretend to kill you and then you could pretend to be dead so I could drag you back to Goatee Man," David said. "But the guy's completely psycho. He'd be able to tell right off the bat that you weren't dead."

Duke nodded. "We need something that will let you off the hook and enable you to keep working there," he said. "If there is anything like that." He frowned. "I don't know, maybe it's too dangerous. You found out some of the drugs and jewels are going to Vancouver. Maybe we should both skip out and go up there."

"I could find out more," David protested. "If we both disappear, this guy will probably suspect we're going up there. I'm telling you, Duke, he's been anticipating and planning for everything."

Duke narrowed his eyes. "I know I've felt like I've been dealing with a criminal mastermind, even before the explosion," he said. "He always tries to be one step ahead of me."

"He's even worse than just that," David said. "Duke, he's _nuts._ He was talking about loving the look in someone's eyes as they're being killed."

Duke grimaced. ". . . And now that Serenity knows about me, and they _know_ she knows, I'm afraid they'll go question her . . . even torture her, to get information out of her," he said. "They'd probably do it for sure if we disappear." He clenched a fist. "I can only see one way out of this." He looked to David. "You'll have to kill me."

The color left David's face. "What are you talking about?!" he cried, his voice rising.

Duke held up a hand for silence. "We have to set up a scenario where you kill me, but the body's lost, beyond your control," he said. "Maybe we're fighting on a cliff around here and you shoot or knife me, but I fall into the water and you can't get my body back."

David slumped back. "I don't know if this guy would buy it," he said.

"It's our only hope," Duke said. "Maybe you can take him a piece of bloodied cloth you tore from me."

David leaned forward now, resting his forearms on his knees and clasping his hands. It was not much of a solution, but given the alternatives they would probably have to try it. At least it would give both them and Serenity a fighting chance.

"How would we work it?" he wondered.

Duke fell silent, thinking. "We'd get a cab, go back to the city, and be dropped off at our places," he said. "Then I'd call you and say I needed to talk to you. You'd take your car so they'd be able to track it and it would add credence to our story. We'd meet somewhere, and I'd confront you about your involvement in the smuggling ring. We'd get in a fight, I'd be killed, and my body would be lost. Then, while you'd keep working in Domino, I'd go to Vancouver and see what I could dig up."

David nodded. "But I can't think of why we'd meet up here in the canyons," he said. "Wouldn't you just confront me at my house or the store?"

"It would be pretty stupid to go somewhere so isolated," Duke agreed. "I'm not sure why we'd come here."

"I don't think Goatee Man would buy you doing something stupid, either," David said.

Duke clasped his hands and rested his chin on them. "Maybe if you pretended to disappear, and I knew about this cabin, I'd come here looking for you," he said.

"It'd be risky," David said. "And since you've been trying to give off an air of being confident in the police, would you go to them?"

"Otogi would be furious if he learned that one of his top employees was a crook," Duke said. "He might be so mad he'd want to deal with it himself."

"Just like you tried to do," David remarked.

Duke grunted. "Maybe I'd have also learned about the possible dirty cop," he said.

"Or maybe I could write a note telling you to come alone to the cabin and that I had something important of yours," David said.

Duke gave him a sidelong glance. "What could you have?" he wondered.

David shrugged. "Good question," he admitted. "Unless . . ." He looked to Duke. "Maybe I'd be confronting you with the truth of your identity and I'd be threatening to release it."

"Perfect," Duke said. "Especially since you 'know' it now, courtesy of the gang spying on me."

David sighed. ". . . If we do this, though, the word will get out eventually," he said. "Ryuuji Otogi mysteriously going missing won't go over well." At least, he supposed that the gang would make it look like he was missing, under the circumstances. If the body was lost, they would not have much choice. "And Serenity, if she hears . . ."

Duke looked down. "Maybe she'll realize we had to do something like this," he said. "I hate to crush her even more. But we both know there's no way out of this mess except this plan."

"And even then, it's a big risk." David crossed his arms. "I'll be honest, I had no idea what I was getting into when I volunteered to infiltrate this ring."

Duke looked to him. "Do you regret it?" he asked. Again he felt terrible for his part in getting David involved.

"I don't regret helping you," David said, glancing to him. "I just hope I can actually do something that helps."

"You've already done a lot." Duke sighed, staring at the floor. "I got us both in over our heads."

"You gathered a lot of important information," David said. "It's because of what you found out first that we're able to do anything at all."

And then he paused as another realization came to him. ". . . You said about me taking a bloodied cloth back," he said. "Where would we get one of those?" He gave Duke a hard look. "Please tell me you aren't planning to make yourself bleed to get the evidence."

Duke shuddered. "I'm not that obsessed. Anyway, I wonder if having anything to take back would seem too convenient. Maybe it would be more believable if you _didn't_ have anything."

David sighed. "With this guy, it's hard to say," he said. "Let's play it by ear and see what happens."

"Okay then." Duke started to push himself off the couch. "Then we're clear on what we have to do."

David nodded. "As clear as we can be, I guess," he said. "Should I write a note for you to sneak back with you and then 'find' in your apartment?"

"Good idea. If these creeps look for evidence that this really happened, then let's make sure they find some."

Duke paced the floor while David scrawled a message on a piece of paper he found in a desk. Then he handed it to his friend for inspection.

_Otogi-san,_

_I have some information of yours that I know you wouldn't want to see made public._

_If you want to stop me from releasing it, come alone to my family's cabin in the canyons._

_David Tanaka_

Duke smirked a bit. "Polite even while you're plotting to kill me?" he said.

"I could be mocking you now," David said. "Though I guess if I really wanted to do that, I could call you 'Otogi-_chan_' instead."

Duke winced. "That's not even funny."

"Sure it is." David smirked. "How is it much different than 'Dukey-boy'?"

"Oh, it's different." Duke grabbed an empty file folder from the desk and placed the note inside it.

"Let's call a cab and get going," he said now. "It's going to be a long night."

****

Duke's prediction was more than accurate. By the time they had secured a cab---thankfully with another driver, who had never seen them---returned to the city, and then had made preparations for going back to the canyons, close to two hours had passed. And by the time they had gone back up and had their fake confrontation near a cliff David knew of, it had been over another hour and a half.

"How are you going to get to Vancouver?" David asked when it was over. He kept his voice low as they remained hidden in the trees. Just in case the tracking device was also a listening device, neither of them dared to venture out yet. David would say he had been trying to get the body back, if questioned later about the time gap. But he really hoped that the intruder in his car was only recording his driving and nothing else.

"I had some money hidden in my apartment," Duke said. "I took it before I left. I'll catch a plane as soon as possible . . . after changing my appearance again."

David shook his head. "What are you going to be this time?" he asked.

"I'm not sure yet," Duke admitted.

He hesitated. "David, can you kind of watch over Serenity while I'm gone?" he said. "I'm still worried that they'll go after her."

"I'll do everything I can to make sure she stays safe," David promised.

Duke managed a smile. "Thanks. And keep yourself safe, too." Part of him wondered if he should really leave just yet. Maybe he should wait and see if Goatee Man would accept David's story. But . . . what could he really do about it? He could not sneak to the warehouse himself. It would be far too risky. And most likely the only thing he would accomplish would be to put David in more danger.

"I'll be just fine," David assured him.

Duke fixed him with a stern look. "I'll hold you to that."

The raven-haired boy frowned at the sky as he stepped around the cluster of trees. Suddenly it had gotten very gray.

"It looks like a storm coming," David observed.

"Just what we need," Duke muttered. "You'd better get going before it starts."

David nodded. "Are you sure you don't want to ride back with me?" he said. "I'm sure they don't have a video camera in my car."

"I'm not taking any chances," Duke said. "Get going. I'll walk back down."

"Okay then." David looked him over. "You're lucky your leg's healed."

"Yeah. Now hurry." Duke lightly pushed on David's shoulders. "And maybe you should show up at the warehouse looking like you've just come from a scuffle."

"I thought of that. I'm going." David backed up, then turned and hiked back up to his car. Duke watched him from the shadows before beginning to pick his way down the slope.

A chill wind nipped at his cheeks. He frowned, looking up at the sky once more.

A storm was definitely coming. The question was, What kind?

****

Most of the smugglers were still in the warehouse, waiting while David Tanaka's car was tracked into the canyons and back to the city limits. Goatee Man stood with crossed arms, watching as Rich monitored their device. His gun was clutched in one hand.

"Well?" he asked.

"He's coming this way," Rich reported. Though he tried to ignore the presence of the gun, it was impossible. His hands trembled as he thought of it right there, so close to his head.

Veronica wrung her hands. "Did he really do it then?" she whispered. She was still stunned over the news that Ryuuji Otogi was Duke Devlin. Yet after the report that had come of not only his reaction to Serenity in danger, but Serenity's reaction to him, there was no doubt in their minds. And the thought that David had killed him for real this time was absolutely agonizing. She had not wanted anyone to die.

"If he didn't, then we take care of him and Devlin tomorrow night," Goatee Man said, his voice like ice.

"Why not kill him when he walks through the door?" one of the other men said from the shadows of the room.

"Because _I _decide when they die!" Goatee Man roared, swinging to point the revolver into the darkness. "And I say _tomorrow!_"

The unlucky speaker immediately fell silent.

"He's parking," Rich said after a moment.

Footsteps outside grew closer and then stopped. The door slowly creaked open as David stood, framed in the dim light. From his rumpled and torn clothes and his wild hair, he had clearly been in a fight. But as he moved to step inside, it was also clear that he was alone.

"Where's the body?!" Goatee Man demanded as the door swung shut. He gripped the gun, pointing it at David's heart.

David shook his head and turned away as he coughed into his hand. "I . . ." He looked up, terror in his eyes. "I killed him, but I . . . I wasn't able to bring the body. It . . . he . . . fell off the cliff where we were fighting . . . and into the water."

Now Rich could see that he was completely soaked. Water dripped from his clothes and his hair, pooling on the floor. He shivered in the autumn chill, coughing again.

Goatee Man swore, stalking over to where David was standing. "What did I tell you about not getting the body?!" he roared.

"I tried!" David exclaimed. "I jumped in to try to get it back. The water was freezing. I . . . I just couldn't find it anywhere. I think it was swept over the falls. I almost went over myself. I could barely see anything in the dark."

"What were you doing fighting on a cliff anyway?!" Goatee Man got right in David's face, clutching the revolver so tightly his knuckles were white.

"We weren't supposed to be!" David said. "Well, I . . . I'd told him to come alone to my family's cabin in the canyons. So he did. But I didn't want to kill him in there and leave blood everywhere, so I . . ." Another cough. "I led him outside."

"What kind of idiot are you?!" Goatee Man struck him across the face. "You could've killed him some other way if you didn't want blood---strangulation, hanging, suffocation . . . !"

David winced, his head snapping to the side. But then he looked back, the fear still the prevalent emotion running through his eyes. Goatee Man looked ready to jab the gun against his throat again.

"I . . . I didn't trust myself to be able to hold him down long enough," he said.

"How do we even know you did the job?" one of the other smugglers spoke. "With the body lost, we only have your word to go on."

Goatee Man looked over at him. "I'm doing the talking," he snapped. He turned his attention back to David. "Didn't I tell you that faking a death was unacceptable? If you've done that . . ."

"I didn't!" David exclaimed. "I followed your orders!" He looked away. "I . . . I didn't want to do it, but I killed him. . . . Ryuuji Otogi is dead."

"And without the body to prove it, I have a good mind to send you to join him," Goatee Man said.

Without warning Veronica ran forward, her eyes wide and filled with horror and alarm. "No!" she cried. "Please, just stop the killing! Why would he jump in the water, risking pneumonia and who knows what else, unless he was trying to get the body back and avoid being killed by you?!"

_"SHUT UP!"_ Goatee Man whirled, striking Veronica and sending her to the floor. The other gangsters stiffened.

David stared in shock. Why had she come to his aid? Had the murders upset her so much that she had been willing to defy her boss because of them?

Goatee Man fired the gun right by her head. "Don't you _ever_ try to stop me again!" he screamed. "You forget that I _own_ you. And you forget what will happen if you go against me!"

Veronica flinched at the shot. "No," she choked out, a sob building in her throat. "No, I haven't forgotten." Instead of trying to get up, she lay where she was, just as David had done when he had been struck down.

"Then start acting like it! You know I'll really do what I said." Goatee Man whirled back to face David. Behind him, Veronica's shoulders shook with silent sobs.

David swallowed hard. She was terrified. And his heart went out to her. If possible, he wanted to talk with her later and find out exactly what kind of hold Goatee Man had over her. He wished that he could help her get out of the mess, especially now that he was coming to know what it was like to be a prisoner of this man's evil. Maybe she would be able to tell him something important about the smuggling ring's operations, too---if she was not too afraid to do so, and he would certainly understand if she was.

Goatee Man glowered at him, bringing him back to the present. "You'll live . . . for now," he barked. "We'll wait and see if the body turns up . . . or if your story is proven false in any way. And you be at the docks tomorrow night at ten."

David gave a weak nod, relieved but wondering whether he dare rejoice.

"After we load the ship, we'll be meeting at the Imperial Hotel to discuss our future plans," Goatee Man said.

David stared. "But it's closed for renovations," he said. "They're saying it's a health hazard."

"All the better. No one will be there." Goatee Man tapped his gun against his forearm. "We never stay in one meeting place too long. And there'll be lots of people at the docks tomorrow night. I don't want us to meet here." He sneered. "Do you have a problem with that?"

David shook his head. "I'm just surprised, that's all."

"We'll be meeting on the top floor," Goatee Man said. "You'll get more information later."

A nod. ". . . But won't people see the lights and wonder what's going on?" David frowned. It seemed an amateur mistake for someone so deadly.

"No one will see anything." Goatee Man was growling now. "I said, you'll get more information _later._"

"Alright, alright. Am I free to go now?" David said. Again he coughed.

Goatee Man's lip curled in annoyance. "Get out of here," he snarled. "And if you get pneumonia, it serves you right."

David just nodded another time as he turned to the door. He fumbled with the handle, his hands shaking from the cold. But at last he pulled the door open and hurried into the night.

Maybe it had been a mistake to go for the drenched look, he reflected as he made his way to his car. He had hoped it would authenticate his story, but it was the sort of crazy thing Duke might have attempted instead---something David would have objected to if Duke had suggested it. And the coughing was only being half-faked.

Something cold landed on his nose. Stunned, he looked up at the gray sky. White ice crystals were descending, floating and tumbling to the ground. And there was no end in sight.

"Snow?" he gasped.

This was completely unexpected. In spite of Domino's abnormally-chilly weather today, he had not thought it would lead to this. And what would it be like in the canyons? Was Duke still walking back to the city? Hopefully he would not get caught in a blizzard. The canyons were noted for receiving a lot of precipitation.

He unlocked the car, then scrambled inside and stabbed the key into the ignition. With quaking hands he turned on the heat, then leaned back and tried to relax as the welcome warm air blew in at him. When he at last felt warmed enough to not be steering with trembling hands, he pulled out of the parking space and away from the warehouses. He reached to switch on the windshield wipers as the flakes continued to fall.

It was just a random snow shower. Within a few minutes it would probably be all over.

****

"All planes are grounded?!"

The young man with the purple-streaked hair and thick glasses stared in shock at the woman at the airport ticket counter, who nodded.

"Yes," she sighed. She had apparently explained this to more people than she had cared to over the last few minutes. "Surely you saw how the snow was falling out there."

He frowned. "Well, yes. The roads were slick when I came in the cab, and it was hard to see, but I didn't think . . ."

"You thought wrong." She gestured out the window behind them. "This freak storm is turning into a blizzard. Planes can't fly in weather like this. They're all grounded until further notice."

"But I need to get to Vancouver tonight!" he protested.

"There's nothing I can do. I'm sorry." Wearily she pushed her light-brown hair away from her forehead. "If you want to wait here to see if this clears up soon . . ."

"I'll come back later. Thank you."

Duke turned away from the counter, feeling sick. What would he do now? He did not want to stay here, among so many people. It would not be that hard for him to be recognized, if someone saw him long enough.

But he was supposed to be _dead._ Again. He could not run the risk of someone claiming to have seen Ryuuji Otogi trying to skip town. Probably the only thing he could do was to find a motel room somewhere and wait out the storm.

He pulled his coat closer around him as he stepped back into the flying snow. Fighting through the gusts, he made his way to a waiting cab and all but threw himself inside.

"I need a motel room for the night," he said gruffly.

"You got it," the cab driver said. "It'll be slow goin', though. Man, just look at that comin' down." He shook his head. "This is some surprise storm, alright. We usually don't get snow this early."

"I don't care how long it takes," Duke said, ignoring the rest of the comments. "Just get us there without getting us in a wreck."

"Okay, okay. I'll drive you along by the places in the city and you can pick one." The cabbie began to pull away from the curb.

Duke leaned back, crossing his arms. If the storm was still raging tomorrow, would that interfere with the ship going out? If not, but if he still had not been able to get a flight to Vancouver either, maybe he would opt to stay, just to make sure everything went well.

He remained silent on the ride, staring out at the scenery without really seeing it. But at the first sight of a respectable motel flashing a _Vacancy _sign, he perked up.

"This is good enough," he said. It was not extremely close to the airport, but it was not clear across town. It should be fine.

The cabbie nodded and parked. "Should I wait, just in case you decide you don't like the place?" he asked.

"It's fine. Here." He shoved some bills up front. "Keep the change."

The driver took the money in amazement. "You're the third rich guy tonight," he said. "Wow, this city is hopping."

Duke paused as he pushed open the door. "You have _got_ to be kidding me," he muttered, before stepping onto the pavement.


	12. A Long Awaited Answer

**Notes: Thanks to Lisa for the idea of the plot twist in the second scene! And speaking of the second scene, for any newcomers, I usually have Serenity and Mrs. Kawai living in Domino, as Serenity's important to my timeline and it would be hard for her to be prominent if she didn't live in Domino. I usually also have Joey living with them. Mr. Wheeler is in parts unknown.**

**Chapter Twelve**

**A Long-Awaited Answer**

The rampaging snow swirled through Domino City the rest of the night and into the morning. Towards early afternoon there was a short break before it started again, albeit not as fierce as it had been previously. By evening it was over---but the damage had still been done. Several neighborhoods were without power, while still others were snowed in their homes with little to no chance of escape before morning. The snow-plows had been at work, clearing the main roads several times during the course of the day. Some of the side roads, however, were still awaiting freedom from their icy loads.

But in spite of the freak blizzard, the shipment would be sent on schedule. The docks had not been as badly affected as the more inland parts of the city, and with the skies clear and no further storms in the forecast, sending the merchandise to Vancouver did not seem a concern.

Duke stood at the darkened window of his motel room, staring out at the evening lights of the city. This had been one of the longest days of his life. He could only imagine how it had been for David. Neither of them even knew whether the other was safe. And now that night had fallen, he would not be trying to catch a plane out of here until after the shipment was on its way. He could not help wanting to make sure that all went well.

Between watching the news and trying to make himself eat something, he had been conducting research on his laptop. Specifically, he was looking for information on his employee Veronica Travis---something he had wanted to do before but with which he had little success due to time and other constraints. Today, with the entire day free, he had dug deeper, even hacking into confidential records. Under the dire circumstances, he felt justified.

He knew next to nothing about her background or her personal life, only what had been necessary information for her employee record. He had known her as both a gushing fangirl and a capable worker, one who had never volunteered information about herself. And after what David had told him about her behavior during his meetings with the gang, Duke wanted to learn as much about her life story as was possible. Her connection with the second-in-command could be vitally important, as well as her seeming regret to be in the ring. Maybe she could even be an ally.

He sighed, walking back to the bed and sinking onto the mattress. Hours of finding absolutely nothing had taken a toll on his weary body and soul. But break-time was over, if the Internet would cooperate.

He perked up when he saw the screen. He was back online at last! The storm had caused the Internet to be shaky at best. That was another reason why he was so frustrated---he had kept losing the connection off and on all day.

His fingers flew over the keys. Right before it had died the last time, he had been searching the city's cemetery records for anyone named Travis, in hopes of finding Veronica's parents or other relations. There had not been any obituaries in the local papers, so maybe they were not dead---or not buried in Domino if they were.

Or . . . what if Veronica was using an alias? What if Travis was not even her surname? That could explain why it was so hard to find anything out about her. But if that was the case, he might never learn anything helpful.

The computer beeped as the search concluded. There was a Violet Travis buried in the city cemetery. From her given age, she could have been Veronica's mother. It was worth looking into, at least.

He opened a new browser tab, clicked in the search box, and typed _Violet Travis._ In a matter of seconds, search results filled the screen. His eyes narrowed. They were for other locations in the country, someone's fictional character, even a couple of Facebook accounts.

Next he modified the search to _Violet Travis Domino City._ The results came back to him again, including an obituary from a Portland newspaper. Immediately he clicked.

Though he was impatient, he read every line carefully. If this was the right woman, a clue could be anywhere. She had been born in Domino City, but later had moved to Portland, where she had lived out the rest of her life. She had been a prominent member of the community, friendly and well-liked. She had died from complications related to a heart attack. She was survived by her . . . wait! What was this?

"'Violet is survived by her daughters Mary Cart and Veronica Travis.'"

He slumped back. There had not been any record of a sister in all his searching. Why?

He bookmarked the webpage and then returned to the search box, now typing _Mary Cart Domino City._ The results sprang to life, but now there was not much to speak of. The obituary was at the top of the page, followed by several websites that looked like spam. But at the bottom of the page was a local article.

_Auto Mechanic Charged With Throwing a Wrench at Patron_

Raising an eyebrow, he clicked. The article was short, describing an alleged incident where mechanic Brutus Cart had lost his temper at a customer who had continually not understood the carburetor repair procedure he had described. He had finally swore at the patron, throwing a heavy wrench that had narrowly missed the poor guy. His wife, Mary, refused to comment to the press.

A small headshot of the accused had been included with the article, and Duke leaned forward, staring at the grainy photograph of a cold, angry man with hard eyes and a goatee. Could it be . . . ? Veronica's sister was married to Goatee Man? It certainly looked like a possibility he could not ignore.

What he wondered now was, What was the sister's role in all of this? Where was she? Did she know what her husband and sister were doing or was she being left out of the loop?

He went to the White Pages, typing in _Brutus Cart_ and giving the Domino Zip code. One result came back to him---Brutus and Mary Cart, located in one of the poorer neighborhoods in the city.

He frowned, gazing thoughtfully at the screen. He wanted to find and talk to Mary, yet at the same time he feared for David's safety and the investigation in general. If the husband was indeed Goatee Man, and she worked with him, it could be disastrous. If only there was a way to determine what she was like first and then try to ask what he needed to know! . . .

His eyes narrowed. Maybe there was a way to at least get a first impression. Of course, if her husband answered, Duke would either have to hang up or do something even more creative to make sure he did not get suspicious. They might not have a caller I.D., but he would have to assume that they did.

Reaching for the phone in the room, he tapped out the number listed on the website. Then he leaned back, crossing one arm across his chest. The phone rang once, twice. . . .

_Click._ "Hello?"

It was a woman's voice, and though she tried to sound polite and noncommittal, he could detect the sadness and exhaustion in her tone.

He leaned back. "Hello, Mrs. Cart," he said, adopting a professional, businesslike tone while keeping it disguised from his normal voice. "Is your husband at home?"

He could almost feel her stiffen. ". . . No," she said at last. "No, he isn't." Almost to herself she added, "He's rarely at home these days." Louder she said, "May I take a message?"

"I'm a friend of your sister Veronica," he replied, using the cover story he had invented moments earlier. "I've been having some trouble with my truck. She told me her brother-in-law was a good mechanic."

Mrs. Cart sharply inhaled. ". . . Who is this?" she asked, suspicion creeping into her voice.

"Slater," he said. "Sheldon Slater."

"My sister's never mentioned you. Where do you know her from?"

He played with a pen on the desk, upending it and then turning it the right way. "We just came across each other in a diner a couple of times," he said. "It happened this past week." Then, deciding to bait the conversation, he went on, "She mentioned she was doing some work at the docks. I was surprised. She doesn't seem like a dockworker."

Now Mrs. Cart actually sounded frightened. "Who are you really?" she asked, trying to hold her voice steady.

"Is something wrong, Mrs. Cart?" Duke made himself sound confused.

"My sister would never mention the docks," she said. "You couldn't know about that, unless . . ."

_Time to take a gamble,_ he thought to himself. _Oh well, I'm good at that._

"Mrs. Cart, I'll come clean," he said. "I'm trying to help your sister. I know she's gotten into a bad mess."

"Are you a detective?" she asked, still on guard.

"Unofficially," he said. "I'm an amateur detective. I've been investigating the murder of Duke Devlin. I know your sister works at his store. And I've seen her down at the docks."

"Do you work with the police?" she wanted to know.

"I have," he said honestly. It had been some time, but he had indeed had dealings with Gabrielle Valesquez in the past. "But on this case, no. I've heard some unsettling rumors about someone on the force, so I haven't dared."

"Bob Philips," she whispered.

He gripped the phone. "What about him?"

"He's dishonest," she croaked.

"Does his partner know?"

"I don't know."

"Is it possible they're both in on it?"

He could hear her giving a heavy sigh. "I really don't know. Mr. Slater, I don't know that much. Anything I do know, I'm not supposed to. You won't need to let anyone know I told you these things, will you?"

"Everything will have to come out eventually," he said. "But no, I won't say anything until I know it'll be safe for you." He paused. "Do you know what your sister does at the docks?"

"She works with my husband and some other people. I'm not sure what it is they're doing, only that it involves sending jewels and drugs to other places."

"Do you know what any of those places are?"

"No. . . . Wait!" Mrs. Cart perked up, suddenly remembering something. "I don't know if it's important, but my husband wrote down 'San Francisco, 9-2' on a piece of paper a few days ago. When he saw me looking at it, he . . . well, nevermind. Does it mean anything to you?"

He frowned. "No," he said. If it had been written a few days ago, it could not be a date. They were well-past September.

"Mrs. Cart, can I ask why you haven't come forward with any of this?" he asked now.

"Can't you guess?" she replied, the sadness returning to her voice.

"Your husband's been threatening you, hasn't he?" he said.

"Not just me. Veronica, too. If I don't keep quiet, he'll hurt her. . . . In fact, what have I been doing, telling a stranger all of this?" she berated. "I have no way of knowing whether you're telling the truth. I . . . I just got so desperate for it to be over. . . ."

"It's going to get over," Duke said. "I am telling the truth, that I'm trying to put an end to all this. And you said your husband's been threatening Veronica. But she's part of his operation."

"She told me she didn't want to be," Mrs. Cart said. "And she also said she couldn't tell me why she was there. She said it wasn't what I might think."

His frown deepened. That was ominous. "And you don't have any idea what it could be," he said.

"Nothing at all. I thought she was in it because of fearing for her safety. I always thought she'd probably stumbled on what he was doing by accident and he forced into his gang."

"Whatever the truth is, I'll find it out," he said. "Mrs. Cart, I might need to talk to you again."

"No!" she exclaimed. "I shouldn't have talked to you now. If my husband finds out . . ."

"He won't," Duke assured her. "Can you just tell me one more thing---whether anyone else on the police force is crooked too?"

"I don't know," Mrs. Cart fretted. "I thought Bob Philips was the only one, but I could be wrong. There could be others, even his partner. Maybe the whole force has been infiltrated!"

"Okay. Thank you, Mrs. Cart. You've been a big help." But then he paused again. There was one more question he needed to ask.

"By the way, Mrs. Cart, can I ask why you're not mentioned on any records as Veronica's sister?"

There was a long silence.

"Are you her biological sister?" he pressed.

Another silence. "I don't see how that's important to your case," she said. Then the fear was back. "I have to go." Without warning, the call was terminated.

He frowned, staring down at the receiver. What had happened? Had she just not wanted to say? Or had Brutus suddenly come home?

He looked to the clock. It was almost eight. The shipment was going to go out at ten. And with the bad weather, he should leave for the docks in enough time to navigate through the snow, probably no later than nine.

He turned back to the computer. With another hour to kill, he might as well use it wisely and see what else he could learn. But first, there was something else he needed to do.

He leaned forward, typing again.

****

Joey was worried.

Serenity had not been the same since she had arrived at the café last night to eat with him. She had tried to smile and insist that she was just fine, but he had not bought it then and he still didn't now. She had been distant all day, even when they had gone outside for a snowball fight. Now she was in her room, where she had been for the past couple of hours. Their mother had gone to help her sister---their aunt---for a couple of days, so it was just the two of them.

She had actually wanted them---or at least Serenity---to come with her, feeling that Serenity needed an escape from the sadness she felt over Duke's death. Getting away from Domino for a while would, she hoped, help her daughter be better able to heal. But Serenity had protested, telling of the promises she had made to help the students she tutored at the elementary school. They, as well as Joey, of course, were helping her get through this time. She did not want to leave.

Maybe she was having second thoughts, Joey decided now. Maybe something had happened at the tutoring session last night that had upset her.

He got up from the floor, heading into the hall and over to Serenity's room. "Serenity?" he called, knocking once.

"Yeah?"

He stiffened at the sound of her voice. It was both shaking and strained at the same time. She almost sounded like she had been crying.

He shifted, leaning forward on the door with one hand. "Serenity, you know I'm here if you wanna talk," he said.

A brief silence. "I . . . I know, Joey . . . but . . ." Her voice quavered again. "I can't. . . ."

"You can't?!" Joey said in disbelief. He straightened up, staring at the door. "Serenity. . . ." They had always been there for each other in the past. What in the heck had happened last night, to make her feel like she could not even talk to him now?!

He froze as a new thought came to him. "Did some guy rough you up last night?!" he demanded, his voice coming out more harsh than he had intended. The very thought made his blood absolutely boil.

"No!" Serenity exclaimed. "Nothing like that. Please, Joey . . . I . . . I really can't talk about it. . . ."

Joey clenched a fist. He had not felt so helpless in some time. What was he going to do?! How could he just stand by and twiddle his thumbs while Serenity was clearly in distress about some unknown thing?

The computer down the hall suddenly beeped, signaling the arrival of a new email. Joey jumped a mile at the abrupt sound. He turned, glowering at the machinery with a raised fist. But then he stopped and blinked. He had been logged into his email account a couple of hours ago, idly checking his mail. He did not remember logging back out. Was the email to him?

Curiously he went over to the computer, grabbing the mouse. But as he brought the email program back up, his mouth dropped open. On the line showing the sender, it clearly said _Ryuuji Otogi._

"What the heck?!" he burst out. How had that character gotten his email address?!

He clicked the line. But as the email came up, his jaw dropped for the second time.

_Mr. Wheeler,_

_Get your sister out of Domino for a few days. Don't go where anyone knows you._

_I'll pay for your expenses. I'm sending you some money from an account of mine_

_that's under the name Sheldon Slater. Don't ask questions, and don't tell anyone _

_other than your sister about this email. As soon as you've read it, delete it. _

_Then leave as quick as you can. I'll let you know when it's safe to return._

_Ryuuji Otogi_

Behind him, the door opened. "Joey?" Serenity asked, having heard his outburst. She blinked at the sight of him bent forward over the computer desk. "What is it?"

He whirled to face her, still reeling from the email. And now another idea had popped into his head. "Serenity, did you see Otogi last night?" he wanted to know.

She went sheet-white. "W-why would you think that, Joey?" she stammered.

He shook his head. "I wouldn't have, if it wasn't for this crazy email the guy sent me!" he said, pointing at the monitor. "Did you give him my email address?"

Stunned, Serenity walked over to have a look. As she read, she seemed to grow even more pale than before. She stumbled back, a shaking hand going to her mouth.

Joey stared at her, his stomach knotting up. "Serenity, what is it?!" he exclaimed. "Come on, you've gotta tell me! What happened with Otogi last night?"

She shook her head. "He's in danger," she whispered. "Now he's worried that I'm in danger, too. That's why he sent this email."

"Danger?!" Joey cried. "What kind of danger?! What's going on?!"

Instead of answering, she turned and ran back to her room, collapsing across her bed as she sobbed.

Joey stared after her. Clearly this message had hit a nerve---or several. Something was seriously wrong. He took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair. Maybe if he could calm down and then try again, she would tell him something. Now that he had been sent this email, he needed to know more than ever.

Quietly he walked into her room, sinking down onto the edge of the bed. "Serenity," he began, trying to keep his voice level, "I can't just take you away from Domino City without knowing something of what's happening. This sounds really serious. I mean, Otogi doesn't even know us, let alone like us." Serenity stiffened. Joey frowned. "But somehow he's got my email address and acts like you're in danger. That's not a small thing."

At last Serenity rolled onto her back, looking at Joey with anguished eyes. "Oh Joey . . ." She trailed off, obviously struggling with herself. "If . . . if you knew what I know now, you'd know why I can't tell anyone. I'm so afraid for him, Joey! I'm afraid he's going to be . . ." She could not even say it.

"But why?" Joey could not help asking. "Why would he be in that kind of danger? Why would _you?!_"

". . . He's investigating something," Serenity said at last. "And I know about it now. . . . He was afraid someone would see us last night. . . . My books were falling when I tried to cross the street, and a car was coming before I could move, so he . . . he ran out to save me. . . ."

Joey stared at her. "You almost got hit by a car?!" he cried in horror.

She nodded, sitting up on the bed. "But I'm okay, Joey, because he came to save me," she said.

Joey swallowed hard. Well, Otogi was a jerk, but now Joey would always be indescribably thankful to him.

". . . I still don't get it, though," he said. "Why would him saving you put you in danger because of his investigation?"

Serenity looked away guiltily. "That's the part I can't tell you," she said.

Joey exhaled. ". . . Okay," he said, fighting for control of his emotions. "But what about why he knows my email address?"

"I didn't give it to him," Serenity said. "He . . . he already knew it." She stared at the comforter.

"This isn't making any sense," Joey moaned. "And if I get you out of here, what am I gonna tell Ma?!"

She shifted. "Maybe we'd get back before she does," she said. "You know how she usually ends up staying at Aunt Cassie's a lot longer than she thinks she will."

"That's true." Joey sighed. ". . . So there really is some big danger, then."

She nodded. "If Mr. Otogi said so, then there is."

He shook his head. "Well . . . then I guess you'd better get packin', sis," he said. "And I'd better figure out where we're going."

She looked up, gratitude shining in her eyes. "Thank you, big brother," she said softly. "I promise, as soon as I can tell you the rest of the story, I will."

Joey rubbed under his nose. "Eh, don't worry," he said. "I know you'll tell me when you can." He glanced to the hall. "Guess I'd better delete that email, too. . . ."

She nodded. "Please do."

"Okay then." Joey got up. "It'll be like it never existed."

Serenity watched him go. Then she turned to stare out the window. "Stay safe," she whispered as she gazed at the night sky. "I hope we will, too. . . .

"Thank you, Duke."

****

David was at the docks barely on time due to the slippery streets. As he alighted from the car, the other employees of the Black Crown---both loyal and traitors---looked up. Goatee Man, of course, was not visible---but David had the feeling that he was watching everything. And since this was supposed to be a legitimate assignment for Black Crown workers, David, being the manager, took charge.

"Alright," he directed. "Let's get this ship loaded."

"Mr. Tanaka?"

He blinked at the girl's voice. The short-haired, freckle-faced speaker stepped forward, looking concerned.

"Is Mr. Otogi alright?" she asked. "With the storm and everything, I mean. . . ."

David looked away, uncomfortable. "There's no reason why he wouldn't be just fine," he said. "He didn't feel a need to come here; he left it up to me to oversee it."

The girl gave a slow nod, but still did not look convinced.

Everyone then fell to work, lifting the sealed crates and carrying them up the gangplank. David weaved around them until he came to where Veronica was making sure the labels were tightly affixed to the wood.

"I didn't have a chance to thank you last night," he said quietly. "I wasn't expecting anyone to come to my defense."

She started and looked up, brushing her thick curls behind her ear. "I just couldn't stand by and watch any longer," she said. "I didn't do anything to stop Mr. Devlin's death. Of course, I didn't know anything about it until it was too late, but . . ."

She leaned closer to him. "I know you didn't kill him last night."

He stiffened, nearly dropping the crate he had just lifted. "What makes you say that?" he asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

"You're not like that." Veronica placed her crate on a dolly on top of two others. Another worker came to roll it up the gangplank. Then Veronica leaned in to examine the label on the crate David was still holding, using it as an excuse to speak again.

"Maybe we're both rotten enough to be part of this thing, but not enough to kill anyone. You admitted yourself you're weren't in for that."

"Why are you in?" David asked, deciding not to address her comments about him.

She stiffened. "I can't tell you that."

Not willing to give up, he said, "Does it have anything to do with what _he_ said last night?"

From the look in her eyes, it was obvious she knew who he meant. She turned away. "I guess you're wondering about that," she said. "Especially him _owning_ me."

David moved to take the crate up the plank. "I have been wondering," he said.

Veronica grabbed another crate and followed alongside him. "We're not in a relationship or anything like that," she said quickly. "Just . . . I joined the ring to protect someone. He holds that over my head, threatening to hurt them if I don't do what he wants."

David frowned. "I wondered if it was something like that," he said. "If there's anything I could do to help . . ."

She set her crate down as they reached the deck. "No," she interrupted. "There's nothing."

David placed his crate on top of hers, debating within himself. If he told her at least some of the truth, would she possibly reciprocate and tell him something about either her situation or the ring in general?

He headed back down the plank with her. "If I told you I'm not a criminal at all, what would you say?" he asked.

She stopped, her hands on her hips. "I'd hope you weren't going to give me some garbage about what we're doing not being evil," she said.

He smirked a bit. "Don't worry. Actually . . ." He hesitated. "I'm investigating the ring. I'm trying to shut it down. But not just that, I need to prove who killed Duke Devlin."

She stared at him, her expression unreadable. But then a slow smile spread across her features. "You know, I believe it," she said. "I'm not sure why, but I do. Maybe just because I always thought you were a good guy."

Then she sighed, looking weary as she walked down the rest of the way. "I wish I knew who killed Mr. Devlin, too," she remarked. "I don't know who put the bomb in his car. Brutus . . . uh, the man who was shoving us around, hires hitmen sometimes. It was probably one of them."

So Goatee Man's name was Brutus? Well, it seemed to fit, somehow.

"Did you ever see any of those hitmen?" he asked.

She frowned, thinking. "A couple, I think," she said. "One had red hair and was always throwing knives around. The other had shaggy brown hair and used guns."

This was new. The one guy sounded like the creep who had broken into Duke's apartment. The other was unfamiliar.

"When was this?" he asked.

She shrugged. "A while back. I haven't seen the redhead for a couple of weeks. Brutus was furious when he disappeared. He was supposed to have some items of Ryuuji Otogi's to use in a DNA test."

"And he disappeared?" David said in surprise. "Without a trace?"

She nodded. "After he broke into your house, yes."

That was strange. Unless, as Duke had speculated, he had fled because of not wanting to report that he had lost the items.

"Brutus is still looking for him," Veronica continued. "He hired other hitmen to track the redhead down."

David stared. Brutus really was obsessed. If he and Duke had tried to escape to Vancouver together, it probably would have been a disaster.

"What about the other guy?" he queried.

"I hadn't seen him for a while," Veronica said, "but . . . he was around today." She frowned.

David frowned too. "Do you know why?"

She shook her head. "He could have come to collect the rest of his pay on whatever Brutus had him do before," she said. "He usually has his clients pay something ahead of time and then the rest after he's done whatever he's going to do." She did not specify what he did, but of course they both knew.

For a while silence fell between them as they worked. Then David spoke.

". . . Have you ever gone to the Imperial Hotel before?" he wondered.

She looked surprised. "Only a couple of times," she said. "The times are usually spaced out pretty far. And . . . coming to think of it . . ."

"Veronica!"

She looked up with a start, fear in her eyes. She relaxed only slightly when she saw the caller was André.

"I need some help here," he said, trying to balance several crates in a stack threatening to spiral out of control.

She shook her head in amusement. "Alright, hold onto your shirt . . . or should I say, the crates," she giggled as she hurried over to him.

David watched her go, a slight frown on his features. What had she been going to tell him? He was still confused over why they would be meeting at a closed hotel, of all places. He was planning to be on his guard. But for now, he had better concentrate on loading the ship.

****

With everyone working together, the ship was ready before midnight. For a moment everyone stood, surveying their work and making certain that they had gotten all the crates on board. Then, as the legitimate employees clapped each other on the back and made plans for drinks, Rich turned and gave David a Look.

David nodded in response. It was time to head for the hotel. He planned to drive in back of it and park nearby. He turned, moving to go back to his car.

He could not help but wonder about Duke again, as he had done all evening. Where was he? Had he safely made it to Vancouver? Who knew how long it would be before David would hear from his friend again. And the police would soon be contacting him again, once they realized Ryuuji Otogi was missing. He was not looking forward to that.

As he unlocked his car and climbed inside, a figure tried to step forward to go after him. Without warning a hand was clapped over the feminine mouth, the assailant's other arm snaking around the slim waist.

"You're not goin' after him," Brutus hissed in the horrified woman's ear. "You were talking too much to Tanaka. Did you really think I wouldn't be here, seeing everything? You won't tell him anything more, not if you still want to uphold your end of our bargain."

Veronica struggled against him, but in vain. At last she slumped in his arms, defeated and broken. Tears slipped from her eyes as he dragged her around a stack of crates.

****

Another figure was watching as David drove away. He narrowed his eyes, observing as the other smugglers turned in the same direction. In spite of his best efforts, he had only been able to catch snatches of conversation over the past couple of hours, and he had no idea where everyone was going. Nor did he think he dare take a cab to go after them. If anyone should realize they were being followed, it would all be over.

But they would have to drive slowly due to the roads. And that might actually be to his advantage. It was possible that he could keep them in sight well enough to shadow them.

It was a relief to see David alive and well. He had been afraid that Brutus would not let him live after last night. But of course, in a case like this, they could never stop being cautious. He could not trust that Brutus would not suddenly turn against David.

He stiffened at the sound of something being thrown to the snowy ground. Or was it some_one?_ It had also sounded like a muffled cry. Keeping to the shadows and the crates, he made his way to the scene. Then he stopped in shock.

Veronica was sprawled in the snow and ice, trembling from fright more than the cold. Someone who must be Brutus was standing over her, his eyes chilled enough to freeze blood.

"What did you tell him?!" he demanded.

"Nothing!" Veronica squeaked.

He leaned down, grabbing her throat. "_What_ did you _tell_ him?!" he hissed, his eyes wild.

The observer clenched his fists. The creep would surely not do anything to her, not if he wanted the information. And didn't they need to follow the rest of the gang to wherever?

"I swear to you, I didn't tell him anything!" Veronica pleaded. "Not about the hotel, not about our . . . agreement . . ."

"You wanted to tell him about the hotel, didn't you?" Brutus snarled. "You were going to, right when he was leaving. That's why I stopped you."

"I wasn't!" she insisted. "I was just going to say I'd see him there. . . ."

He struck her across the face. "Liar!"

She cringed, but set her jaw. She would not cry. Not this time.

"And as for our 'agreement' . . . even you don't know all of it." Brutus's ugly face twisted into an even worse monster. "I just wanted you in the ring so I could keep an eye on you. So I could have you right here."

Now she stiffened, trying to slide away from him. "What are you talking about?" she gasped. "Brutus, you're scaring me!"

"I've always wanted you here," he continued, as if not hearing her. He advanced, taking hold of her jaw. She stared into his wild eyes, too terrified to even scream.

The stranger had seen and heard enough. He knocked down a row of crates to the side, giving the illusion that he was standing somewhere else.

"Let the girl go," he growled, disguising his voice again and muffling it with the dark scarf he was wearing.

Brutus started and looked up. "Who's there?!" he demanded.

"You thought you were all alone," was the reply. "You were wrong---there's still other people on the docks. I should call the police on you right now. But if you'll get up and let the girl go, maybe I'll be lenient . . . _this_ time."

Brutus swore, releasing Veronica with such force that she jerked back. Then he stood, a hand going to the pocket where he was currently keeping his gun.

"I wouldn't do that. You don't know but that I'm armed and will shoot first." Still staying concealed, the stranger backed up and knocked another stack of crates down to the side, sending them falling very near Brutus's feet.

Again Brutus swore. "You're going to regret this!" he roared. "I'll come back and I'll get you. You're just lucky I have somewhere else I need to be right now. But after that, you'll be dead! Do you hear me? You'll be _dead!_" With that he stormed over the wharf and to his car. In a spray of snow he was speeding away, in the same direction as the previous cars had taken.

Veronica sat where she was, dumbfounded. He had really gone . . . and left her. . . . For that horrifying moment, she had been afraid that she would never be away from him again, outside of death. She had never been so terrified of anyone, even Brutus, before tonight.

"T-thank you," she called to the night. "I can't thank you enough for what you did. But now you're in terrible danger. He means what he says. . . ."

Her rescuer stepped out from the shadows, reaching out a hand to help her stand. "I'm not worried," he said.

Shakily she accepted his help and got to her feet. She stumbled on the ice, gripping his arm to keep from falling forward. He steadied her. Then, looking into her eyes, he made a decision.

"Veronica, I need you to tell me where they're going," he said, keeping his voice low.

She froze, staring at him. "Mr. Otogi?" she gasped. "Er . . . Mr. Devlin . . . er . . ."

He shook his head. "Just tell me. I need to know."

Regaining her composure, she gripped his arms. "The Imperial Hotel," she said, the urgency clear in her voice and her actions. "I know what's going to happen tonight." She swallowed hard. "It's happened before. I was thinking about it and realized just as we were finishing up, but I didn't get a chance to tell . . ."

"What?" he demanded, clutching her arms. "And why are they going there? It's all but condemned!"

She told him everything, her voice shaking. He went pale, releasing her from his grasp.

"You have to go, right now!" she cried. "But be careful. _Please!_"

"I will be," he said, his mind suddenly reeling. "And you . . . you should get out of here right now. Go to someone you trust. Go to your sister and both of you get out of the city for a while. You're both important witnesses."

She gawked at him. "You know about Mary?" she gasped.

"Yeah, I do," he said. "I talked to her earlier, under another assumed name. Now just go. I don't want to think about what will happen if that creep gets his hands on you again. I know you don't, either."

She managed a weak nod. Then, with a last look, she fled, running towards the road that would lead back to the city. As she ran, she pulled out a cellphone, probably to call a cab.

He watched her go. As she made her way East, he ran North. The Imperial Hotel was not far from the waterfront.

But would he make it in time?

He prayed under his breath as he ran.


	13. The Cost

**Chapter Thirteen**

**The Cost**

Gabrielle Valesquez let out a frustrated sigh as she spun her chair away from her desk. It had been over two weeks since Duke Devlin's death and the situation was barely different than it had been the day of the explosion. There had never been any real leads to the murderers, if indeed there were any to begin with. Her partner was still insistent that it could have been a problem with the car that had sent it up in flames. And true, it was possible---but she did not really believe it.

She was also still convinced that there was something odd about Ryuuji Otogi. Bob disagreed, but she continued to wonder if there was any chance that Otogi could really be Duke Devlin in disguise. She had never mentioned her concerns to anyone else. If Duke actually was undercover like that, he was in extreme danger. And she did not want any hint of the idea to leak to the press. What she really wanted was to speak with him privately, but she had never been able to catch him during the times she could have talked to him off-the-record.

Reporters had been hounding her and Bob ever since they had been assigned to the case. After all, Duke had been quite prominent in Domino as a businessman. Now that he was gone, the magazines, newspapers, radio stations, and television channels all wanted answers.

The tabloids, of course, made up their own. Gabrielle had looked at one out of curiosity, but had immediately set it down in disgust. It had reported a "shocking, inside scoop" involving several women with whom Duke had supposedly had romantic dealings. All feeling jilted by him, they had conspired to have him killed. Other tabloids made up similar stories; one featured a twist where the lovers of the girls had been the ones to rig the bomb.

As far as the real women were concerned, Gabrielle had been tracking them down over the past couple of weeks. It was a tiring process, not just looking for them, but questioning them. Some had said they had no idea who would have done such a thing, while others had mentioned, sometimes reluctantly or worriedly, their jealous boyfriends or protective family members. Some had cried while talking about him, but a couple had laughed, saying he deserved what had happened to him.

And then Gabrielle had also spoken to the aforementioned jealous boyfriends and protective family members. Some of them had said that their feelings had been blown out of proportion, though a few others had confirmed their anger and dislike towards Duke Devlin. One had said he was not sorry it had happened, but the majority had been sickened in spite of their personal feelings about the deceased.

Speaking to his employees had been another must. They had largely praised him for his business sense and skills; he likely could have been the next Seto Kaiba, if he had really wanted. But he had preferred to take things slow; running one local store, as opposed to a full-fledged chain or company, had been good enough for him. He had liked his leisure time and had not been a complete workaholic like Seto Kaiba.

Yet, despite the fact that most of his employees had spoken positively about him, some had seemed more reserved in their praise. A couple had, from their facial expressions and body language, not seemed to really like him. When questioned, they had said they liked him fine---though one had mentioned he did not think Duke was as skilled of a businessman as some did. They had also said that they did not know who would have killed Duke, but that it would not surprise them if it was someone in the business world. There were always rivalries there, including some that were downright malicious.

For a reason she could not explain, Gabrielle had felt something was amiss with at least one of those employees. But he had not been involved in anything suspicious that she had seen. Maybe, she told herself, she was paranoid. After all, just because someone did not like Duke, it did not mean that they would try to end his life. But it did keep them at the top of the suspect list.

Naturally Gabrielle had also talked with those who had considered themselves Duke's friends. She had helped them quite a few times in the past on their cases and was no stranger to any of them. None of them had any idea who would have done such an abominable thing, but had agreed that they wondered if it was business-related. She knew they had been struggling to investigate on their own, and though she had warned them of the danger, she had not tried to stop them. Of course they would want to look into the mysterious death of their friend.

Overall, Gabrielle had never been quite sure what Duke Devlin had been like. She had been trying to reconstruct an image of him as the victim, hoping that it would help her possibly understand better who could have condemned him to an untimely death. But even his friends had not been completely certain. Duke had been an enigma, they had said, a mysterious guy who helped you out of jams and was friendly, but would not speak of his personal life.

He had been a chronic flirt and a lover of beautiful women---though the reports on exactly what he had done with those women varied depending on who was talking. Some said he had been a very worldly sort and that just about anything you could imagine, he had done. Others insisted such talk was nothing more than rumors and he had never been immoral.

He had come from a tragic past, but in spite of a less-than-ideal home life, he had pressed forward with his hopes and dreams. He had wanted to break free from his controlling father's ghost and make something of himself. His friends said he had succeeded. But more important than becoming a successful entrepreneur, he had been a loyal friend.

The jangling of the telephone on her desk brought Gabrielle out of her contemplations. She reached for the receiver, lifting it to her ear. "Hello, Domino City Police Department. Officer Valesquez speaking."

"Hello?!"

She was stunned by the girl's terrified, shaking voice. She leaned forward, giving the call her full attention.

"Yes, what's wrong?" she asked in concern.

"There's going to be a murder tonight. A murder at the Imperial Hotel. . . ."

Gabrielle grabbed a pen and her pad of paper. "The Imperial Hotel?" she repeated with a frown.

"Yes! Please, you have to hurry. I don't know when they're going to kill him, but it's going to be soon."

"Kill who?" Gabrielle was having a hard time discerning what the distraught girl was saying. She thought she managed to hear the name of the intended victim, but once she had written it down, her mouth dropped open in shock. "Why are they going to kill him?" she queried. "And who are 'they'?"

Again it was difficult to make out what the girl was saying. Gabrielle wrote it down as best as she could.

"Now, please just go!" the caller begged. "They might be doing it right now. Maybe you could save him if you hurry!"

"Wait!" Gabrielle implored, sensing she was about to hang up. "Who are you? How do you know this?"

"I can't tell you. Not yet. And _please,_ don't let any reporters know about this call. He'll know. He'll know it was me. And then he'll come for me, too."

"Who will?" Gabrielle demanded.

But the only sound that met her ears now was a sharp click. The girl had terminated the call.

Gabrielle let the receiver drop into its cradle as she took up the pad. There was no time to think about the validity of this information. If it was true, a life hung in the balance---and that was something she was not willing to gamble with. "Bob!" she called to her partner. "Come on. We're going to the Imperial Hotel."

At the water cooler across the room, Bob stiffened in what seemed an odd way. _"There?"_ he said, his voice and his face equally incredulous. "Why?"

"There's going to be a murder, according to an anonymous call just now," Gabrielle said over her shoulder as she grabbed her jacket. "And if everything she told me is correct, we may just have a big break in the Devlin murder case."

She was not facing Bob Philips, so she did not see him go pale as he leaped up to run after her.

****

Serenity gave a sad sigh as she closed her suitcase. She pulled it off the bed, hauling it towards the door. Then she stopped, taking one last look at her room. Of course they had to leave, when Duke had sent them such an urgent warning. But that did not mean she did not have doubts and worries. What if their mother did come home first and found the house empty? Or worse, what if someone would be laying in wait to attack the first person to walk through the door? She wanted to believe she was just being paranoid. But after she had seen so much over the past couple of years, she was not sure at all.

"Ready to go, sis?"

She turned. Joey was in the hall with a duffel bag slung over his shoulder. She managed a smile and a nod.

"Yeah," she said. "I just hope this works. And that Mom will be okay. . . ." She shifted. "What if they go there looking for us?!"

Joey felt his stomach drop. "Well . . ." His shoulders slumped. "I don't know, Serenity," he admitted. "We're just gonna have to hope they don't."

She bit her lip. "I guess. . . ." She looked away. "I don't know, Joey. . . . I keep feeling like . . . like something horrible is going to happen!"

"Hey." Gently Joey turned her back to face him. "Everything's gonna be okay, sis. I don't know how it's all gonna work out, but I know it will. We're Wheelers, right? Nobody messes with us and gets away with it!"

She managed a weak smile. "You're right, Joey."

"Of course I am." Joey grinned, then turned to the stairs. "So let's get going."

Serenity nodded. ". . . Do you know where we're going, Joey?" she asked as they made their way downstairs.

"Sure I do," he said. "But I'm not telling you. It'll be a surprise. Man, I can hardly believe the amount of money this Otogi guy sent---and all because he wants to keep you safe!" He shook his head. "I can't figure him out. I mean, of course any guy who'd know you or who's decent would wanna get you out of some mess, especially if it's their fault. But when he doesn't know you and he's just a jerk, I wouldn't have ever thought . . ."

He trailed off. Serenity had hurried ahead of him and was waiting by the front door, facing it instead of him. She raised a hand, wiping at her eyes.

"Serenity?" he blinked.

She moved to pull the door open. "Let's just go," she said quietly.

Joey shrugged, bewildered. "Okay." He followed her out, turning off the lights as he went.

****

The Imperial Hotel had been one of Domino City's most popular high-rise buildings in its time. Twelve floors of richly-furnished and decorated rooms and suites, intelligent and prompt room- and every other kind of service, and well-known chefs from around the world were just some of the attractions that had made it a perennial favorite. It had been remodeled twice during its close to one-hundred years in operation, first updating features and amenities while trying to keep the age of its heritage alive, then completely overhauling the look to be more modern.

But that had not been good enough for the health inspectors. During the second remodeling, there had been some critical faults committed to cut corners. The attempt to recreate the building into something modern had also made it highly dangerous. For the past few months, it had been closed for extensive renovating. Hopefully this time, everyone thought, they would get it right.

In the meantime, however, no one was allowed inside save for the construction crews. Or at least, that was how it was supposed to be.

David stared up at the building as he parked and got out of his car. Even closed, it still looked impressive. But he was leery of stepping inside, both because of the health hazards from the building and from Brutus. It was times like this when he wished he carried a gun. Yet if he did, he wondered whether he could bring himself to use it. He was not a violent person and did not like inflicting harm on others.

Someone had gone into the building ahead of him, leaving the back door unlocked for any who would follow. He slipped inside, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness.

"Into the stairwell!" Rich hissed somewhere in the room. "You can use your flashlight in there, if you really need to."

"That's all well and fine, but where's the stairwell?" David objected.

The creaking of a heavy door, followed by a visible beam of light, answered his question. He advanced towards the light, soon slipping into the stairwell with Rich.

"We're not meeting in the stairwell, are we?" David said, only half-sarcastic.

"Don't be ridiculous," Rich retorted as they climbed the hard stairs, their footsteps and voices echoing in the space. "We're meeting in a suite on the top floor."

"In the dark?" David could hear other people walking several floors above them. Had anyone reached the top yet?

"A heavy black curtain is set up around the balcony doors," Rich said. "No light is visible from outside; we've tested it out in the past."

"Alright then." But David's feeling of unease did not lift. "What exactly is going to happen at this meeting?"

"The boss will be there," Rich said. "He's going to brief us on the next stage of our plan."

David was stunned. "The boss?" he repeated. "The one who's over Go . . . uh, Brutus?"

"That's right." For the first time, a note of fear slipped into Rich's voice. "I think Brutus would kill him and take over as top dog, if he thought he could."

That did not make David feel any better. "Could he?" he wondered.

"With him? I don't think I'd put anything past him." Rich stopped, feeling along the darkened wall. "Here's the door." He pushed it open, revealing the equally black corridor.

David stared, incredulous. "Are you sure we're on the right floor?" he said.

"Of course. See the sliver of light under that door?" Rich pointed ahead. David could barely make out his hand, but the strip of light was now clearly visible.

"Yes," he said.

"Then let's go." Rich hurried ahead, David following close behind. But as Rich pulled open the door, ushering David inside before closing the door again, someone David had not expected to see at all was standing in the spacious front room of the suite.

David's eyes widened in shock. "You?" he gasped.

A smirk was his answer. "Me, Mr. Tanaka," was the smooth reply. "Welcome. Please sit down."

David sank into a chair. "_You're_ the mastermind behind everything?" he said. He was in disbelief. He had never once thought or even considered that this person was their worst enemy. He had thought the other was far too shy and nervous and naive to be a leader of anything legal, to say nothing of a deadly smuggling ring.

"You didn't think I'd be capable of it?"

"I trusted you," David exclaimed. "So did Mr. Devlin. He thought you were loyal."

A shrug. "It looks like neither of us were." A grin. "Poor Mr. Devlin didn't have a friend in that store. Or did he?"

David froze. Some of the employees were indeed honest and loyal, but he doubted the crime boss was referring to them.

"Relax, Mr. Tanaka," the person said. "We're going to have a nice, normal meeting with everyone. But first, you and I have business to discuss."

Suddenly David realized Rich had not followed him into the room. He was alone with the mastermind.

"Fine," he said, praying his voice was steady.

"You'll find I'm a lot different than Brutus," said the criminal. "But that doesn't mean I'm any more forgiving."

****

Gabrielle gritted her teeth as the light suddenly changed red. She slammed on the brakes, fidgeting as she waited for the green signal that would enable them to continue their mission to the hotel. They still had over half the distance to cover. And the girl had sounded so panicked!

"The call could have been a prank."

She frowned, whirling to look at her partner. The only times Bob had spoken in the past fifteen minutes, he had raised objections to what they were doing. She was growing tired of his insistence that the call might not be what she thought. It was just like how he was so adament that Duke Devlin could have been killed due to a fault with his car.

"The girl was frightened out of her skin!" Gabrielle said. "Something is wrong and she knows it."

"She was probably on drugs and thought a bunch of stuff that wasn't even true." Bob glared at the light as it turned green.

Gabrielle sped through the intersection, not replying to Bob's comments at first. If only there was a faster way to get to the hotel! With the after-effects of the storm, this was still the quickest route.

Only when she was forced to slow down for the next light did she speak. "She was sober and she was _scared._" She looked to Bob, her eyes narrowed. "I don't understand what your problem is, Bob. You've been a stubborn goat on this entire case. Duke couldn't have been murdered, you said. The girl couldn't have been reporting a real soon-to-be-murder."

The sound of a click made her eyes widen. Bob had drawn his gun and was pointing it directly at her.

"I'm getting tired of this, Gabrielle," he said. "We're not going to the Imperial Hotel. You're going to turn the car around and drive right back to the station. Otherwise, there will be a murder---but not at any hotel."

****

Duke forced himself to slow his pace to a walk as the hotel came into view. From the front it was all in darkness, but he was not about to believe that it was truly vacant. He slipped closer, keeping to the shadows. Yes, there was someone now, hiding behind one of the pillars over the main entrance. Another was behind the second pillar.

He crept to the side, staying across the street. Someone was there too, trying to conceal himself behind a small tree. Duke allowed a small smirk of derision as he made his way to the back.

Here was where everyone had parked. David's light-blue car was parked near the center, where it would be impossible to see from the street. Above the cars were the balconies of some of the hotel rooms. Duke shook his head. Hopefully there would be a back door; he did not want to climb up via the balconies, even if it would be possible.

He looked around, staying alert as he spied what he sought. There was indeed a back door, and it looked vacant---but was it? Someone could be guarding just inside instead of outside.

He pulled up the scarf, which had slipped down his face during the run. Then, drawing his coat closer around him, he moved around the cars, using them to hide behind until he reached the door. As quietly as possible, he turned the knob. The door creaked as it opened, revealing the darkened back hallway. He sneaked inside, memorizing the layout even as he let the door shut behind him.

It looked like he was alone down here, but he was not willing to take that chance. He felt along the wall, searching for the stairwell door he had seen a moment earlier.

Something pressed against his back. "You can't be one of us," a voice growled. "We're all already inside."

Duke's mind raced. If possible, he did not want to fight, especially not with this gun right against him.

"You must've miscounted," he retorted. "Of course I'm one of you. If an enemy could get past the guards, you must've set up some really incompetent ones."

A brief silence. "If you're one of us, then who are you?"

"Brutus personally sent me over," Duke said. "I don't think he'd be happy if he knew you were detaining me with the third degree."

"I didn't hear anything about Brutus sending someone," the sentry retorted.

"Then I guess you weren't paying good enough attention," Duke said. "He'll probably kill you next."

The weapon shook. "I know he didn't say anything about you," the man said. But the uncertainty in his voice was clearly audible.

Duke smirked in the darkness. "You're really sure of that?" he said. "Enough to risk your life?"

A frustrated, desperate curse. "Okay, go on then." The gun was pulled back. "If you're lying, I'll kill you myself."

Duke reached out, grabbing hold of the stairwell door. He pulled it open, then hurried inside. "Big words for such a small man," he sneered as he shut the door.

Gripping the banister, he began to run up the stairs. He had to go up twelve flights. Would he make it in time . . . if it was not already too late? No . . . he had to make it! He had gotten David into this mess. He could not stand by and allow him to be killed.

He had no idea what he was actually going to do when he got to the top. He only knew he had to save his best friend.

****

David was still standing his ground, facing down the criminal mastermind as a gun was pointed at his heart. He would not be surprised if the creep could hear it beating, what with the way it was pounding in his ears.

"Let's stop playing games, Mr. Tanaka," the other person said. "You were Mr. Devlin's childhood friend. We both know it."

"I don't know what you're talking about," David said, even while he fought to keep his voice impassive. "I've explained before---we lived on the same street, but that doesn't make us bosom buddies."

"Everyone knew you were close." The gun never wavered. "Mr. Devlin went through an extensive interviewing process for all of his employees, except you. He handed you the management of the store on a silver platter. If actions speak louder than words, then his actions were screaming. It wasn't just that; it was also how he'd relax around you and how he'd let you tease him. No one else could get away with it."

David stared into the barrel of the gun, then up at the one holding it. "Even if he felt that way about me, it doesn't mean I felt the same," he said.

"I know. But most likely you've been trying to solve his murder. That's why you tried to get in with us, isn't it? He confided in you about us and you're determined to avenge his death."

"No!" David exclaimed. "No, that isn't true."

"Or did he ever die at all? I wonder if Ryuuji Otogi really existed."

"He did, and they're both dead now," David said, bitterness slipping into his voice. "You killed Mr. Devlin and I killed Otogi-san."

"I guess that's possible. But we're not willing to take any chances."

David froze. It was at that moment when he knew the conversation was over. He dodged to the side at the same moment the gun fired. Then he was lunging forward, tackling the other to the floor. He grabbed for the wrist of the hand holding the gun, fighting to force it away from him.

The weapon fired again, harmlessly at the rod holding the thick curtain. A loud _crack_ sounded through the room as several of the curtain hooks snapped. The heavy cloth slumped, revealing the light inside to the outside world. Distracted, David looked up as the curtain fell away.

Two things happened at once.

The lights went out, plunging the room into darkness.

And from somewhere else in the suite, another gun fired.

****

Gabrielle could only stare as her partner and fellow police officer threatened her with his gun. She was stunned, but more than that, she was angry. Suddenly everything was making sense.

"You're one of them!" she hissed. "That's why you've been deliberately stalling the investigation. Why didn't I see it?"

"You're too trusting," Bob said, his voice cold. "But I have a good thing going. I'm not about to let some tattletale---and you---ruin it."

"'A good thing'?!" Gabrielle repeated, the anger in her voice only increasing. "Smuggling? Drug-dealing? _Murder?!_"

"I haven't been directly involved with any of that," Bob said.

"Oh, so you just turn a blind eye to their criminal activities and they pay you," Gabrielle surmised. "And if anyone gets close to the truth, you steer them away from it. I bet we would have found out about them long ago if it hadn't been for you. I'm ashamed."

"'Ashamed'?" Bob mocked. "For what?"

"A lot of things. That I didn't realize what was going on. That you actually call yourself an officer of the law." Her eyes narrowed further. "That you've been working with me."

"Well, too bad. I guess you'll just have to go on being ashamed in the next life."

For a long moment the two of them sat in the squad car at the intersection, locked in a deathly staring contest. Then, without warning, Bob fired.

So did Gabrielle. Her bullet grazed his hand, sending the gun to the floor. His bullet, jerked off-course, struck the steering wheel.

She held her gun steady. "Give up, Bob," she said. "You can't pick up your gun. And I'll shoot again if you try to get away."

Cursing, Bob flung his car door open as he leaped out to run. Gabrielle fired as promised, striking him in the arm. But he was undeterred, even as he grunted in pain. He tore ahead, vanishing into the night.

"What is he thinking?!" Gabrielle growled to herself. There would be a manhunt for him within an hour, if she had anything to say about it.

Of course, right now she would have to let him have a headstart. She had to get to that hotel.

First she reached for her radio. She really did need to call for backup. But then she hesitated. What if Bob was not the only one on the force who was a traitor? How would she know?

Well, she could not handle this problem on her own. She knew that. She would have to take a chance.

"This is Officer Valesquez requesting immediate backup to the Imperial Hotel," she said into the radio. "A dangerous smuggling ring is reportedly meeting there. They may be going to kill someone. Repeat, a murder may be in progress."

She put the radio down and sped off quicker than she probably should have.

****

David gasped as he fell back in the darkness. The burning pain ripping through his chest was excruciating, but at the same time surreal. He reached a shaking hand to where the thick liquid was oozing over his skin and his clothes. Blood came to his lips at the same moment and he coughed, doubling over.

_So this is what it feels like to be shot. . . ._

Was he going to die? There was no one here to help him. He was surrounded by enemies.

He did not want to die. . . . And yet he had always known it could come to this. Had he believed he could cheat death anyway? Had he thought it would not really happen to him?

The one whom he had been fighting with for the gun kicked out, sweeping his legs from under him. He cried out as he went down on his back, badly jostling the wound. Again he coughed, the coppery substance lingering in his mouth and on his tongue. And in spite of the agony, there was a burning question on his mind.

"How?" he rasped. How had anyone seen well enough to shoot him so precisely in the dark? Had it been a random guess? Or . . .

"You're a dead man, Mr. Tanaka," hissed the mastermind. "No one will ever know I was here. And as for you . . . don't worry. Your precious 'Otogi-san' will join you soon enough." A sharp kick hit its mark in David's side. Then the traitor was retreating, the footsteps soon fading into the stillness around him.

He stared blankly at the ceiling. Duke had to live! And if there was any chance, he had to, as well. But he could not push away the sinking feeling that it was over for him. Wearily he closed his eyes, the dizziness threatening to engulf him.

****

Duke was still running up the stairs when the first bullet rang out. He stopped, his blood freezing cold as he stood poised to take the next step. Then he tore ahead, his hair flying out behind him. Upstairs, the second bullet soon followed the first. After another brief silence, a third. Then all was silent.

His heart was in his throat as he burst onto the top floor, flashlight in hand. He wanted to cry out, to scream for David. The floor was in darkness. How would he find the right room?! And when he did . . . what would he find in it?

He grabbed the first knob on the left. The door swung open, revealing an empty room as he beamed his flashlight in every corner. The second door was the same, and the third and fourth. The entire floor seemed to be abandoned. Biting back a cry of frustrated anguish, he tried the fifth door.

As he shined the light inside the room, he could not help his horrified gasp. A lifeless body was laying on the floor, seriously bleeding from a wound to the chest. Dizziness and vertigo swept over Duke as he ran inside, letting the door shut after him while he tore to the other's side. Desperate, hopeless prayers were running through his mind. It was one of the smugglers, he prayed. Someone, anyone, other than David.

But it was not to be.

"David!" he choked, his voice strangled as he crashed to his knees. Fumbling, he dropped the flashlight nearby to shed its meager glow on the scene. He grabbed the limp wrist, searching for a pulse.

David's eyes fluttered, then opened halfway. "Duke?" he whispered in disbelief. "You're here?" He stared at the purple streaks in the otherwise-raven locks. "What did you do to your _hair?!"_

Duke let David's wrist fall, now leaning over to examine the grisly wound. "Of course I'm here!" he exclaimed, ignoring the other question. "What happened?! Who did this?" He tore his own shirt, pressing the ripped cloth over the bullet hole. Under his hands, he could feel David's chest heaving.

"I don't know," David rasped. "I don't think it was . . ." He trailed off. "Duke, I know who's behind this. . . . The one who's even higher than Goatee Man. . . ." He fell silent again, fighting to gather his strength. He could barely think coherently enough to speak. Sleep was being forced on him---a dark, endless sleep. If he closed his eyes again, he would be gone. There was no way he would able to fight to open them again.

"You can tell me all about it when you're recovering in the hospital!" Duke retorted. The emotions welling inside him were threatening to overflow and burst free, but he had to hold them back. He had to stay calm, no matter what. David needed him. He could not think of himself.

"Duke . . ." Weakly David reached for Duke's hand. "I'm not going to make it that long."

"Shut up!" Duke screamed. "What are you talking about? Of course you're going to make it!" Somewhere in his mind, it sounded strange to him, to make an outburst like this. That was more like Tristan than him. But then again . . . what _was_ like him, really? Was he even sure anymore? Otogi may have been holding him prisoner, but Otogi's personality was part of Duke's, as David had said. Whatever Otogi said and did were things Duke might say and do, under certain circumstances. Yet . . . Otogi would stay calm and cold in this situation. He would not cry out in anguish, as Duke was doing now. Otogi would not have his heart completely shredded.

This was his fault. It was _his_ fault! He had gotten David into this, and now David was . . .

David grabbed hold of Duke's hand, pressing something against the gloved palm. "I . . . tore this from him," he said, his voice barely audible. "You have to leave now, Dukey. . . . Take my car. They're after you too. . . ."

Duke gripped the whatever-it-was, still pressing against the wound with his other hand. The blood refused to stop or even slow. "I'm not leaving you!" he snapped.

David did not reply. With the last of his strength, he shot his arm out, striking Duke across the shoulders. The action sent the raven-haired boy falling backwards with a cry. At the same moment, a bullet clipped the air right where he had been leaning over David.

Duke gasped, his eyes widening. David had just saved his life from the unknown sniper hiding in the suite. And now . . . now he was laying so motionless, his eyes having fallen closed. . . .

"David!" Duke screamed, nearly making himself hoarse. _"David, wake up!"_

But there was no response now. He could see that David's chest had gone still. And the assassin was preparing to fire again.

There was only one thing he could do. He would never make it back to the main door and down the stairs. He would have to try a different tactic. Shoving the evidence into his pocket, he plunged a shaking hand into David's pocket, searching for his friend's keyring. Finding it, he pocketed it as well and then grabbed a nearby chair, heaving it at the balcony doors partially concealed by the curtain. He turned away, shielding himself as glass shards flew in all directions. Then he dove forward, through the hole and onto the balcony. He was going to have to climb or jump down via every one of the patios, each right below the other. He had dreaded the thought of climbing up that way, but going down, especially in this situation, was going to be so much worse.

His heart twisting, he turned to look back at David's body. "I'm so sorry," he whispered. "Please forgive me. . . ." He wanted to take David with him. He did not want these creeps to dispose of the body! And if there was any possible chance David could still be saved, how could he be left here like this?

But Duke did not have a choice. Behind him he could already hear the killer coming out of his hiding place to follow. With a sudden adrenalin rush, Duke ran to the edge of the balcony. Gripping the railing, he hoisted his nimble body over the side. Then, swinging his legs under the bottom of the balcony, he jumped.

For an agonizing moment he was falling through the air. Then he landed, on his feet, on the next balcony down. He gritted his teeth at the pain of the impact. But there was no time to focus on it. The hitman was still coming.

He leaped over that balcony the same way, crashing on the tenth floor deck. His arms and legs were already burning from the exertion, but the drive to stay alive was stronger than the pain. He kept going, his heart pounding, his blood racing, his thoughts focused on the danger at hand. He could not think of David right now; he could not cry or scream or mourn for him, as he wanted to do. He had to save himself. And then, when he was away from the assassin, maybe he would have to take a chance and call the police in the hopes that he would get an honest officer who could still save David.

He jumped to the fifth balcony down. Somewhere in his mind, he was counting. The hitman was right behind him, but from the audible scuffling and heavy grunting, Duke was clearly the one in better physical condition. He would keep putting that to his advantage.

He leaped to the fourth balcony.

Or he tried.

As he made the jump, his ankle suddenly hooked around the railing above. He cried out as it pulled free, sending him to the fourth balcony in a heap.

He gritted his teeth. Now his ankle and foot were throbbing. He tried to push himself up, attempting to move his foot at the same time. It cooperated, even as it screamed in protest. He may have strained or sprained it, but luckily it did not seem broken.

The killer was still coming. He would be upon Duke in a matter of seconds. And then it would all be over.

He fought to get to his feet, grabbing at the railing at the same time. He stumbled, his injured ankle rolling under his weight. Shifting to his other side, he sprang up and over the metal rod and down to the third level. As he went, he felt the fourth balcony shake as the assassin arrived.

There was absolutely no time left. And the balconies were empty; there was nothing like a chair that could be heaved at the hitman if they found themselves on the same patio. The killer was jumping off the fourth balcony now.

Duke leaped over the edge. But this time, instead of swinging his body to land on the second balcony, he dropped straight down, grabbing onto the next railing with his hands. Maybe he should have done this from the start. It was more dangerous, but quicker.

He dropped to the first balcony the same way, then launched himself onto the roof of a car parked almost directly underneath it. He slid off, half-running, half-dragging his twisted ankle as he ran for David's car.

A bullet whizzed past him, landing nearby in the asphalt. He gasped. He was being sniped at again! That was likely how David had been shot, too. The hitman had probably hid somewhere in the suite and then fired when David was in range.

But David had acted like someone else had been there, too . . . the criminal mastermind. He had torn something from the creep, something he had given to Duke that would help him identify the person. In all the commotion, Duke had not had a chance to look at it yet. And at this point, he was not sure when he would get that chance.

He unlocked David's car as he drew closer, the electronic key clicking as it unlocked only the driver's door. Duke hauled it open, throwing himself inside as another bullet aimed for him flew through the air. It shattered the side mirror, sending more glass particles flying. Duke slammed the door and inserted the metal key in the ignition in one motion. Then he stepped on the accelerator with all his might. In the next moment he was practically flying out of the parking lot.

He had to get away, far away, before he could even think of stopping. A glance in the rearview mirror told him that the assassin had a car too, and he was using it. Already he was in hot pursuit.

Duke's race to stay alive was only just beginning.

****

It was sometime later when the door to the fifth room on the twelfth floor was thrown open. Gabrielle Valesquez ran inside, gun in hand, still on an aderenaline rush. It had been a long fight to get to this point. The backup officers had arrived to assist her when she had reached the hotel. Together they had been forced into a shootout with the sentries outside, taking out two and wounding another.

Gabrielle had gone ahead once they had gotten inside, fearful of what she would find on the top level. But before she had gotten there, several other guards had attacked. She had lost far too much time battling with them. Now she bore a cut on her cheek from a deliberate bullet, the crimson dripping from it onto her uniform. But she barely paid attention. Especially now that she was at the top. . . .

She gasped as the sight of the motionless body met her eyes. She hurried to the gory scene, her throat constricting. Though she already knew who the victim was going to be, it was still horrible to realize that she recognized him.

"David Tanaka," she whispered.

She reached out, desperately feeling for a pulse both in the neck and in the wrist. She held her hand in front of his face. But it was no use. She was too late---if there had been any chance for him to begin with.

She bowed her head, whispering a prayer for the deceased.


	14. Heaven Bend to Take My Hand

**Notes: For anyone who read the last scene as a blurb, there have been changes and additions made.**

**Chapter Fourteen**

**Heaven Bend to Take My Hand**

By the following morning, the news of what had happened at the Imperial Hotel was all over the county. In Domino City, the morning newspaper carried, in bold letters on the front page:

_**Duke Devlin's Second-in-Command Fatally Shot**_

The article went on to describe what had happened at the Imperial Hotel, as best as the reporter could relay. Gabrielle Valesquez had agreed to speak to the press, if only to get the story told as correctly as possible. But even so, she remembered the caller's pleading and left out any mention of the anonymous tip that had led her to the hotel.

There was also mention of the manhunt for Bob Philips, who had undoubtedly alerted the smugglers to the oncoming police in time for them to flee the scene. By the time Gabrielle and the other officers had arrived, there had not been any cars in the lot save those belonging to the sentries. A thorough search of the building had revealed it to be empty other than them---and David Tanaka's body.

She was thankful that they had come in time to recover it; they had probably just barely intercepted an attempt to take the body and dispose of it someplace where it would not have been discovered for some time, if at all.

The guards they had arrested were refusing to talk. Even the prospect of a lighter sentence for their cooperation had not loosened their tongues. Gabrielle could only hope that some time in jail would cause them to reconsider.

And as if all of this was not bad enough, Ryuuji Otogi was missing. No one had heard anything from him since the day before yesterday. His apartment was vacant and he had not been to the Black Crown. Gabrielle was even more concerned by these developments, particularly in light of her suspicions. What if she was right and Otogi had been murdered because he really was Duke . . . or at least because the gang thought he was? On the other hand, he could be on the run for his life. Either way, or even if it was something entirely different, he needed to be found.

Yugi and the others were stunned and horrified by the dark secrets that were unfolding.

"So this smuggling ring was operating right in Duke's store?" Téa gasped as they met in Yugi's living room that cold autumn morning.

Yugi nodded. "That's right," he said grimly. "From the looks of it, David Tanaka was investigating and that's why he was killed."

"And I bet Duke knew about it, too," Tristan said in realization, growing angrier by the moment. "That's probably why _he_ was killed!"

He stood up and began to pace. "And something else weird is going on," he reported.

Yugi blinked. "You mean about Joey and Serenity," he said.

"Yeah!" Tristan stopped and looked to him. "Think about it. All this weird stuff has been going on with Duke and Otogi and Tanaka. And then Joey sends all of us an email last night saying that he's taking Serenity out of the city for a few days. Why?"

"She's been so heart-broken about Duke," Téa said. "Maybe Joey thought it would help to take her away for a while." But then her eyes widened. "Oh no!" she moaned in horror. "You're not saying that maybe they were taken by those creeps, are you?! Or that they left so they wouldn't be taken?!"

"I don't know." Tristan clenched a fist. "But I want to know. I sent an email back to Joey, demanding to know what's going on. I haven't heard back yet. And I also rode past their house on my way here. It's definitely vacant."

Téa frowned. "But why would they be taken any more than any of the rest of us?" he said.

"If they know about Serenity's feelings for Devlin, maybe they'd think he'd have let her in on this smuggling ring stuff," Tristan said.

Téa clasped her hands tightly. This was too horrible to think of on top of everything else! Surely it was not true. . . .

"Joey said he'd be in touch," Yugi said, "so that makes it sound like he'll have access to some kind of communication." He frowned too. "But it's strange, anyway. Where would he even get the money for them to leave?"

"Maybe they're going to help their mom," Téa suggested, her voice and eyes hopeful.

"If they were, why not say so?" Tristan retorted. "No, something else is going on."

"I think you're right, Tristan," Yugi said. "But what?"

No one had any answers.

Téa stared out the window. "I just hope they're okay," she said.

The others fervently agreed. There had been far too much tragedy already.

****

Serenity was in the dining room of the hotel she and Joey had chosen when she saw the newspaper, left by the previous diner at the table. She went sheet-white, pulling the newspaper towards her as she scanned the first lines.

"Oh no," she choked out, tears coming to her eyes.

Joey, who had been ravenously attacking his breakfast, looked over in confusion. "What is it, sis?" he asked, not even having swallowed yet.

She barely noticed. "Duke's store manager," she said. "He was killed last night. . . ."

Now Joey swallowed the half-chewed food out of shock. _"What?!"_ he cried, and immediately fell into a coughing fit. He grabbed a glass of water.

"He was investigating a smuggling ring that was using Duke's store as a place to work," Serenity said in horror as she read more of the article. Was that why Duke had wanted her out as soon as possible? Had he known David was in danger? If ke knew what had happened last night, he must be devastated!

"Smugglers?!" Joey exclaimed. "That's crazy!"

"It's right here," Serenity said, holding up the paper. "They did catch some of those awful people, but they're not saying anything!"

"Figures," Joey grumbled. "They're ticked off at being caught, so they decide they'll be stubborn and not be any help."

He was bowled over, to say the least. He had never imagined smugglers! And right in Duke's store? A few things were maybe starting to make more sense, such as what could have happened to Duke, but there was still a slew of questions.

"Is that what Otogi was investigating?" he asked. "It's okay to say that much, isn't it?"

Serenity bit her lip. "I guess so," she said. "But . . . I actually don't know what he was investigating. I have a pretty good idea that . . . that he was trying to find out who . . . killed Duke, though. . . ."

Joey slammed his fist on the table, causing the knives and forks to jump. "That jerk!" he burst out. "He wouldn't let us in on it, and said we should leave it up to the police, but behind our backs he was investigating!"

Serenity flinched. "He was trying to keep us safe, Joey," she said. "That's what he was always trying to do. . . ." Her eyes glistened with unshed tears as she looked back at the newspaper. "And now he's missing. . . ."

"Missing?!" Joey leaned over her shoulder, staring at the article. "Oh man. I wonder where he is. . . ."

"I hope he's safe," Serenity said, her voice cracking.

Joey sobered, staring at the forlorn girl as he sat back in his chair. Of course it was something to worry about. Heck, he did not want to see anyone get hurt, especially not someone who had gone to such lengths to protect Serenity. And he knew Serenity would feel the same. But was it his imagination or was her concern and worry even more pronounced than he had thought it would be for a stranger? She had been acting so weird in general when it came to Otogi.

An image of the cold businessman flashed through his mind---the jet-black hair, his height and probable weight . . . the way he had softened after the reading of the will when Serenity had spoken to him. . . .

What would he look like if he pulled his hair back in a ponytail and if his eyes were green?

As soon as the outlandish idea popped into Joey's mind, he pushed it away. What was he _thinking?_ That was just crazy. And it just could not be.

He grabbed his water, gulping it down again. But then he paused, staring at the bottom of the glass.

Even though it could not be true, what if Serenity thought it was? What if she was so grief-stricken that she was imagining Otogi to really be Duke somehow come back to life? That would explain the way she had been acting.

His stomach knotted. He set down the tumbler, looking to his sister. She was still staring at the newspaper, her mind clearly far away from the table.

"Serenity . . ." Joey stopped, running his tongue over his lips. How could he possibly broach this subject?

He tried again. "I know you probably feel close to Otogi because he saved you, but . . ."

She looked back to him, her eyes widening a bit. What was Joey trying to say?

The blond boy ran a hand through his hair. "I mean . . . sure, there's reason to worry about him. . . . I'm worried, too. But still, he's really a stranger to us." He shifted, then burst out in self-frustration. "Aww nuts! What I'm trying to say is that even though he's like a last connection to Duke, being Duke's successor and all, he's . . . well, he's not Duke." His shoulders slumped. "There, I said it."

Serenity was staring at her brother. For a time she looked shocked, clearly uncertain what to think. But then she leaned back with a wan smile.

"I know," she said.

Joey blinked. He had been fully preparing for a retort. This reaction surprised him.

He slumped back, feeling awkward now. Had he been wrong? Maybe he had just imagined things. "Well, uh . . . then I guess there's no point in talking about it anymore," he said lamely.

Serenity just nodded. "Yeah."

She set the newspaper aside, quietly returning to her breakfast. After a moment Joey did as well.

****

The next several days passed in somberness, anger, and confusion.

An anonymous call from a disguised but clearly male voice had informed the police of an interesting shipment to watch for in Vancouver. When they had followed up on the information, they had confiscated crates of both drugs and stolen jewels---and had apprehended those who had been waiting for the illegal wares. The ring was not broken yet, but it was clearly weakened.

Believing that the caller could have been Ryuuji Otogi, search efforts for the missing boy had increased---but to no avail. The call had been placed from a telephone booth in a small town many miles from Domino City, but no one there recalled that someone matching Otogi's description had passed through. If he had placed the call, however, he had likely been incognito. The police continued to look for him, desperate to find him before an assassin could. One of the smugglers in custody had at last admitted that Brutus Cart---who was currently missing as well---had hired a hitman to kill both David Tanaka and Ryuuji Otogi. This only raised concerns all the more.

David's parents had flown in from Portland the morning after his death. That evening, his older sister and her husband and their children had come up from Seattle with the middle, unmarried sister. Even his second cousin had made the journey from Station Square, California. The funeral was to be held five days following the shooting. There would be no open viewing, as per the family's wishes.

For some reason, Yugi felt that he should go. He had not really known David; they had only spoken in passing a handful of times in the past couple years. But he was horrified by the circumstances surrounding his death and Otogi's disappearance. He wanted to give his condolences to the family and pay his respects to a brave man. Maybe in some way, he felt strangely responsible. If he and the others had known where to look and had been able to investigate too, this might not have happened. Of course, they could have all been hurt or worse, so he knew he should be grateful that they had not been involved. Yet he felt guilty anyway.

He said nothing of those feelings to the others, but they said they would go too when he mentioned the funeral. Joey and Serenity were still not back; however, Joey had sent several emails, reassuring their friends that they were safe. Yugi, Tristan, Téa, and Bakura had to trust that it was true. And so they left to travel to the church where the memorial service was to be held.

The funeral was bittersweet and haunting. The prevalent emotion hanging over the service was a grief-stricken _Why?_ David should not have been taken from them so soon. Though his family and friends, and especially the sister closest to him in age, tried to dwell on the happy times and on how he would have wanted to be remembered, it was obvious that they were all struggling with their feelings of how unfair and cruel this was.

None of the teens really felt comfortable with the thought of going to the cemetery too. It seemed to them that anything at the gravesite should be kept private for the family and closest friends. At the conclusion of the funeral, they threaded their way through the crowd in an attempt to speak with the family before leaving.

"Mrs. Tanaka?" Yugi called when they drew close enough that the woman should be in hearing range.

She turned, a look of bewilderment passing over her features as the speaker was not immediately visible to her.

"Uh . . . over here," Yugi said, a bit embarrassed as he stepped into the clearing.

She looked down to him, her eyes widening a bit in surprise.

Yugi tugged on his tie. "I know you don't know me," he said. "I'm Yugi Muto. . . ."

At last she nodded. "I've heard of you, Mr. Muto." She raised her gaze as the others made their way over as well. She studied each of them in a brief moment as they introduced themselves and offered sympathy.

"Thank you for coming," she said quietly. "I'm glad to know that David had friends in this city other than that Devlin boy."

Yugi swallowed hard. The bitterness in her voice was unmistakable. He was about to reply when, to his surprise, Tristan spoke first.

"Hey, Duke was a good guy. I don't mean any disrespect, Mrs. Tanaka, but he meant a lot to your son. Otherwise he wouldn't have been looking into Duke's murder like he was. And of course this was a tragedy and shouldn't have happened, but . . . he wouldn't want you to feel like his sacrifice was in vain."

Mrs. Tanaka flinched. Her eyes flickered with emotions, anger definitely among them. It was to her credit that she managed to keep herself composed and her voice even.

"I realize that, Mr. . . . what did you say your name was?"

"Taylor," Tristan supplied.

"Mr. Taylor." She took a deep breath. "But there are better people David could have befriended. Mr. Devlin had quite a reputation for himself, even as a child. David was forbidden to have anything to do with him."

"Because of his father?" Tristan said in disbelief.

Téa elbowed him in the ribs. This was a shock to her too, but this was certainly not the time or place to talk about it.

David's father, having overheard at least some of the conversation, turned to join in. "Have you heard the saying 'the apple doesn't fall far from the tree'?" he said.

Yugi blinked, stunned now. "Duke wasn't anything like his father," he said.

Mrs. Tanaka sighed. "David said that too," she said, suddenly looking so tired. "And it isn't that we don't believe him . . . or you. David was an intelligent boy. But as we see it, Duke Devlin was responsible, albeit indirectly, for our son's death."

Tristan stared. "So you're blaming a ghost?!" he said in indignation.

"Tristan, settle down!" Bakura exclaimed, laying a hand on his shoulder.

Tristan shrugged it off. "Blaming a ghost isn't going to do any good," he said. "It won't bring your son back. It only stirs up bad feelings and makes you more miserable than ever." He clenched a fist. "I should know." He looked away. "I've been blaming a ghost for something for a long time now."

Yugi, Téa, and Bakura all stared at him. Even the Tanakas seemed stunned into silence.

At last Mr. Tanaka spoke.

"Well . . . we both thank you for coming . . ." He shifted awkwardly. "And for expressing your insight."

Yugi nodded. "We're all really sorry about David," he said. "I wish we could have known him better."

"So do we," said the middle sister, as she suddenly appeared. Her eyes were sad, but she tried to smile. "Even though we've known him all his life."

Téa felt a lump in her throat. "I'm so sorry," she said.

"I guess we have to be grateful for the time we did have," the sister said. "It was too short, but . . ." She turned away, her voice breaking. "I guess we'd always feel like that, no matter when death came."

Téa bit her lip. "Yeah. . . ."

"We'll let you get going," Yugi said then, uncomfortable with the scene and worried that they were in the way. He started to turn, herding the others ahead of him.

"Thank you for coming," said the sister, echoing her father's words.

Yugi nodded.

None of them spoke again until they were outside. Then, as they walked towards the parking lot, Téa's voice broke the silence.

"Tristan, what were you _thinking?!_ They're in enough pain without you, a complete stranger to them, making a scene here, of all places!"

Tristan slammed his fist into his palm. "I just didn't like how they were talking," he said.

"I didn't either," said Bakura, "but still . . . !"

Tristan turned to face them. "Look, I just let them know how I felt. Maybe someday they'll be grateful. Maybe they never will. But at least I won't have to regret not saying anything to them when they started blaming Duke for something that wasn't his fault." His eyes narrowed. "There's already plenty to blame Duke for without making things up."

Yugi stared at him. "Tristan . . ."

The brunet turned, continuing to walk towards the edge of the parking lot. "I've been angry at Duke because of Otogi and the will. You guys know that. But . . ." He rubbed the back of his neck. "I know it doesn't do any good. And I don't like how it's been making me feel."

Yugi softened. "We've been worried about you, Tristan," he said. "You know you'll always have our support."

Tristan nodded. "Yeah. I know."

He sighed, staring ahead at the cloudy sky. ". . . I'm tired of being angry at Duke, but I still am, anyway," he said. "It's stupid . . . I was thinking that I didn't want anyone else wasting energy doing it, too."

"That's not stupid," Téa said.

"Yeah, well, it feels like it," Tristan said. "And I know I made a scene in there. I was just frustrated."

"Well . . ." Yugi tried to smile. "Maybe someday they'll be grateful."

****

The week finished without any leads to either the remaining smugglers or Ryuuji Otogi's whereabouts. The second week passed in like manner. Joey, not knowing what to do since he had not heard from the other, remained hidden with Serenity. But the doubts increased in his mind, especially as the third week drew to a close. Ryuuji Otogi might even be dead. He did not dare suggest such a thing to Serenity, though he could not help but think it. Maybe they should simply go home. By now their mother knew what had happened and also wanted them to come back. Surely the smugglers would not dare try anything, with the police wise to them and on high alert for any suspicious activity. But just in case, Joey decided, maybe he would give it another day or two.

As it was, Ryuuji Otogi was still on the run for his life. The hitman had managed to stay right behind him all through his desperate flight. He barely had time to find places to hide in order to eat and sleep for a couple of hours before he had to flee again. Oftentimes, he made it away just as the assassin arrived. He certainly did not have time to email Joey to let him know whether it was safe to return---and for that matter, he did not know if it was. He was amazed that he had been able to place the anonymous call to the Vancouver police. Thanks to David, he had managed to put quite a dent in the ring's operations.

But that was not good enough for him. He wanted to see them shut down for good. He wanted to personally put them out of business.

He wanted revenge for David's death.

And he would have it.

****

The heavy breathing could be heard throughout the dark, seedy motel room. The shadows of furniture were cast on the pale walls, lit only by the moonbeams shining through the dirty window. A weapon clicked, another moonbeam catching the glint of a gun as it was loaded. Trembling, the figure in the shadows brought the silver revolver to the level of his shoulders, the barrel pointed around the corner at the door.

_He_ was coming.

_He_, the unnamed assassin who had pursued him from Domino City. _He,_ the killer who had forced him to never let down his guard, to be ready to flee in a split-second. _He,_ who had already made more than one attempt on his life.

_He,_ who had ended David's.

Duke Devlin gritted his teeth in the darkness, his emerald eyes flashing as he gripped the gun in his gloved hands. The murderer would catch up to him tonight, as he always did. And Duke was tired of running. Tonight the killer would pay. If he was expecting Duke to roll over and be killed, he was going to be sorely disappointed. Duke would fight. He would fight and he would win.

And he would do it all on his own. He would never allow anyone else to help him with his quest to stop the ones who had tried to murder him. He had relied on David and now David was gone. It was his fault; he never should have dragged his hapless store manager into this mess. He had known the risks involved and had tried to defy them. He had always possessed that defiant streak. But now, because of it, an innocent person had lost his life.

"David . . . why did you go there?" he whispered under his breath. "Why did you go to the hotel that night? And why . . . why couldn't I get there fast enough to help you?"

It seemed like an eternity ago that he had ran into the room at the Imperial Hotel only to find David laying on the floor, dying from a fatal wound to the chest. They had not even had the chance to say a proper goodbye; their last conversation had been short, interrupted by the killer from whom Duke was still running.

He still did not know how he had even got away, that time or any of the others. There had been so many close calls over the ensuing days. . . . So many times he could have ended up like David, shot and killed, his quest at a hopeless end. . . .

But he had not survived the car explosion only to be killed now. Oh no. He was going to live. He was going to defy every one of his enemies and make them regret that they had not been able to finish the job. He was going to give them Hell.

He had at least managed to keep track of the unfolding case in the newspapers as he had fled. Domino, being one of the most prominent cities in the area, had their local paper in newspaper stands across the state. David had been in the obituary section by the evening after his death. Several days later, there had been a piece about the funeral. A local tabloid had published a picture of David's family forlornly standing by the coffin in the cemetery. The most heartbreaking thing about the photograph was a small child---David's niece---staring up at her mother questioningly, unable to understand what was happening or why they were putting Uncle David in the ground.

When he had seen it, he had silently vowed to that girl to bring her an answer. David had died to help him catch those creeps. Duke would make sure that it was not in vain. And he would get revenge not only for his friend, but his friend's family. He would get revenge for the little girl who had lost her uncle.

If David were to see him now, he might not even recognize his former neighbor and boss. Oh, physically he did not look that different, if one did not look too close; after all this time, the purple streaks had even washed out of his hair. But his eyes were vastly changed, though he was no longer wearing the contacts. Any traces of friendliness or kindness were gone. Instead, his eyes were bloodshot and wild, filled with anger and hate. He looked far older than his eighteen years.

The door creaked, bringing him to complete attention. He stared as a strip of light from the corridor appeared and widened across the floor and the wall. A rough, well-built figure stepped inside, letting the door shut and lock behind him. Duke caught a glimpse of shaggy brown hair before the light was gone.

"The hunt has taken longer than usual," rasped the cold and evil voice. "I knew you weren't dead, Ryuuji Otogi. I knew it when I was hired to kill you and David Tanaka. And I knew you'd come if David was in trouble."

Duke stiffened, his grip on the gun tightening. "You killed David to get at me?!" he cried.

"I killed him because I was paid to," the assassin said. "But it never hurts to have more than one motive. Yes, he was bait. I used him to draw you into the little game we've been playing."

_"Game?!" _Duke's voice only grew even more strangled in his outrage. "You think this is a game?!"

"The darkest game you've ever played, isn't it? A fight for your life." The hitman's gun clicked. "You've played it remarkably well for a beginner, but this is the final round. Why not give up now, before you're blown to bits like Duke Devlin or shot in the heart like David Tanaka?" He sneered, his yellowing teeth standing out in the darkened room. "What you're trying to do is pointless. You'll never bring down one of the most successful smuggling operations on the West Coast."

"I'm not going to die." Duke's voice was cold as well, hard as steel. He stepped from around the corner, the gun held firmly in his hands. He was no longer shaking. Now that the wait was over, their last encounter begun, a sense of finality had taken over his senses. He was going to end this.

The assassin just looked entertained. "A lot of them say that. They think they're smarter than me. But my line of work is very psychological. A large part of it comes from studying people---their habits, their emotions, their strengths and weaknesses. And I determine exactly when and how to strike based on what I learn."

He kept the gun pointed at Duke. "You let me find you this time," he observed. "And how clever, choosing a place where no one would hear or care if a gun went off. You even made sure to select a room in a corridor that no one else is using. But it was foolish. No one will be able to help you. Not that I'll leave you alive when I go away. I won't take any chances on you surviving again."

Duke glared. "Are you the one who set up the car bomb?" he asked, not addressing any of the other remarks.

"I did, on the orders of the smuggling ring's mastermind." The hitman's expression twisted in a grotesque manner. "The same man who spoke to David that fateful night. David was fooled into believing he was the only threat. He never saw me until it was too late."

Now Duke went stock still, his breathing quickening. The killer was deliberately hitting the worst nerve.

The wretch's cruel smirk widened. "Do you know what David said to me, right after I shot him like a dog?"

Duke held his ground, his eyes narrowing further. The creep was trying to psych him out, to rattle him and make him lose control. Could he sense how close to the edge Duke was right now? If he was as good as he claimed, he probably could.

"He called out in the darkness while coughing up blood and told me you would defeat me." He was not holding the sniper rifle tonight---only a black revolver. He held it level with Duke's forehead. "He fully believed it."

"It's the truth." Duke's gun clicked. Was he going to have to fire first? He would do it if he had to. This standoff could only end in one of three ways, all of them involving death. Either both of them would fall, the killer would fall, or Duke would fall. It would not be him.

But the murderer held his fire. "You intrigue me, Ryuuji Otogi," he mused. "You appeared only after Duke Devlin's death, claiming to be named in his will as the one who would accept Devlin's mantle upon his demise. But in your native Japan, where you insist you and Devlin met, Ryuuji Otogi disappeared two years ago, supposedly to come here to go to school. Yet there is no record of you attending any school. What was really happening during that time period?"

"I don't have to tell you anything," Duke retorted. "If you're so smart, then figure it out yourself."

"I already know." The assassin smirked again, clearly proud of his deductions. "I know all about your secret identity."

"'Secret identity'?" Duke challenged. "So you're saying Ryuuji Otogi pretends to be someone else?"

"Ryuuji Otogi never existed," the other hissed. "You and I both know that you are Duke Devlin. You did a good job with your cover story and your altered appearance. You even managed to fool your former friends. But I am smarter than they." He peered at the boy, who was still clutching that gun as if it would save him. "You are more trouble than my employers believed, to have escaped that car bomb. I must say, I wonder how you did it."

Duke's expression only grew more cold. He would not confirm or deny these comments.

"Not that it really matters," the hitman continued. His gun caught the light of a moonbeam. "This time there will be no mistakes."

The revolver fired at the same moment Duke leaped out of the way. The bullet dug into the wall, raining bits of plaster and splinters of wood on the floor. Duke fired in retaliation as he jumped, sending his attacker stumbling back in surprise. His sleeve was torn near the shoulder, revealing a spot of crimson where the lead had grazed his arm.

Duke landed on his feet at the start of the path leading to the door. His own shoulders quaked for a moment as he gripped the gun, then steadied. He had snapped.

"I told you, I'm _not_ going to die!" he screamed. "I don't care what I have to do to stay alive and bring down you and everyone you work for. I'm going to do it. And I'm going to make every last one of you regret each criminal act you've ever committed. You'll pay for what you did to David. You'll pay for what you did to his family. You'll pay for what you did to _me!_"

Without warning he kicked over a chair and sent it flying at the assassin. Then he leaped to the side, firing again while he was occupied with the troublesome furniture.

This bullet missed. The killer turned, firing two rounds in rapid succession aimed for Duke's chest. On an adrenaline rush, the teen dove out of the way of the worst of the assault. One of the bullets tore across his cheek as they passed each other, leaving a trail of red dripping down the right side of his jaw.

Now he was pulling the trigger mindlessly, desperately shooting in the general direction of his enemy as he ran. Was he hitting his mark? He did not know. But he was keeping himself from being attacked again. Bullets drilled into the furniture and the walls, missing him by inches. Then he gasped. One of them had reached him. He collapsed to the floor, his right leg throbbing without mercy.

The hitman sneered, raising his gun as he stepped closer to the fallen form. "There," he said, obvious satisfaction in his voice as he beheld Duke gasping in pain. "For the fight you've put up, I applaud you. Very few have ever managed to actually strike me. But there's nothing more you can do. Your life should have ended weeks ago. This time it's for real."

The sound of the final bullet echoed all around them, ricocheting through the cheap motel room. Then, as Duke stared with wide, disbelieving eyes, the large body of the assassin crashed to the floor. Blood was pooling from between his eyes, quickly seeping into the dirty carpet.

Duke's heart was pounding in his ears. For a moment he had forgotten to breathe. Suddenly he gasped, wheezing as he gulped the precious air. The gun slipped from his violently shaking hands, clattering on the floor next to him.

What had he done? _How_ had he done it? The man who had been about to kill him was now laying dead on the floor. He did not even remember raising the gun or pulling the trigger. But obviously he had done it; there was no one else here. His revolver was smoking, emptied of the last of its bullets.

And the wall around his heart began to crack. There had been no time to grieve over David because of his urgent race to stay alive. The hired killer had chased him from city to city, forcing him to constantly be alert and attentive. He had barely eaten or slept. Anyone could have been in his enemies' employ, watching his every move and waiting to call in and let the assassin know where to strike. There had been a very real danger, even more than before, that every night would be his last. Tonight, as he had waited for the killer to come, part of him had feared it would be his final hours. And he wanted to live. He wanted to _live. . . ._

So much so that he had been forced to kill someone else to do it. And even though the man had been evil, even though Duke had hated himwith every fiber of his being . . . even though it had to be done, now he just felt so empty . . . so horrified. Blood was everywhere, blood that was not his. It was sickening. He had never killed anyone before, had never even thought of it. How had that man lived with himself, killing every day for money?

How could he have thought of revenge so deeply that he was willing to kill out of hate? When he had actually pulled the trigger, he had not thought of anything but saving himself. Yet when he had first stopped running and loaded the gun in this dark motel room, he had done it out of his hatred. He had wanted to end the life of the killer who had murdered David and hounded him for the past three weeks.

"What's happened to me?!" he cried, heedless of the blood running from his cheek and his leg. "God . . . oh God . . . what's happened to me?! What am I becoming?"

He slumped back as he sobbed, running a gloved hand into his tangled hair. He did not even know why he was crying. For the losses suffered on his quest. . . . For David. . . . For the realization of just how badly damaged his spirit was. He had locked that knowledge away, but now it had to come out. There was no way to hide it any longer.

"I can't do this," he choked out. "I can't do this alone . . . !"

But there was no one to help him.

And at that moment, he had never felt more like Duke Devlin was dead.

He could never be that person again.

"God . . . !" he screamed in strangled anguish, his voice echoing over the darkened, cracked walls of the deplorable room. "God, help me. . . . Please help me. . . ."

His pleas faded as he continued to kneel, trembling, on the blood-soaked carpet.

He was broken.


	15. A Long and Painful Fight

**Notes: Thanks to Alfred Hitchcock for making wonderfully suspenseful movies such as **_**Saboteur**_** and **_**North by Northwest**_**. Their climaxes inspired the last scene here.**

**Chapter Fifteen**

**A Long and Painful Fight**

_San Francisco, 9-2._

Duke frowned as he bent over the desk, tapping a pencil in his hand. _San Francisco, 9-2. . . ._ It had to be important in some way, but how? Was it part of an address? Or was it a date, even though that did not make much sense? If it was not September 2nd, maybe it was February 9th. Some countries, he knew, reversed the order of the day and month numbers. Maybe some people in America did that too, if they felt like it.

But February? That was months away.

He leaned back, dropping the pencil to the desk as he ran his hands into his hair. He could fly out to San Francisco, but he would rather solve this mystery first. Not that it would tell him anything about where he should go in San Francisco. Several places there had ordered from his store. Maybe he would just have to visit all of them.

The police, he knew, had already looked into that angle without finding anything. But the smugglers were crafty; they could have hidden all evidence. And with almost everyone involved in the Domino City branch having gone missing due to the police's search, maybe at least some of them had gone to a different branch of the ring. They might even be hiding in San Francisco.

It had been two agonizing days since he had been forced to kill the assassin to save himself, though it felt much longer. That night, he had knelt on the floor for some time in hopeless agony, the bottled-up emotions from several weeks pouring out in the space of a couple of hours. But somehow he had then managed to pull himself together enough to deal with the injuries he had sustained.

He was lucky that his leg had only been grazed. It still hurt, but he could walk on it. However, he tried to shift the pressure to his other leg when possible.

He hoped the cut on his cheek would not leave a scar. He did not want that kind of visual reminder of a night he could never forget. And he was just plain vain enough to detest the thought of his skin being marred like that.

He had called the police before leaving, anonymously telling them that an assassin hired by the smuggling ring was laying dead in the room, shot by a near-victim in self-defense. But when they had asked if he was Ryuuji Otogi, he had hung up. He could not be discovered yet. There was still more he had to do.

His resolve was just as strong, if not stronger---but his experience had shocked him back to reality after he had trod a path of darkness. He had been forced to take a long look at himself and his behavior over the past weeks, and he did not like what he had found. His father's ghost had found another way to linger, by poisoning him with hatred. Of course, it was only human to hate when he had been betrayed, and much moreso when his friend had been shot and killed without mercy, but seeking revenge had done nothing except twist his soul. David would have been horrified to have seen Duke waiting in the motel room, clutching the gun as his eyes had burned with fire.

David had warned him that if he played Otogi for too long, he would become the facade. Was that what had happened? Would Otogi have completely snapped as he had, willing to kill the enemies chasing him? Otogi was supposed to be his darkest feelings. But still . . . he did not feel separated from what he had done and how he had acted, as he had felt when he had used the mask of being Ryuuji Otogi. He felt like it had definitely been him, Duke Devlin, grief-stricken and heart-broken over his friend.

He was still angry and outraged over David's death, and still vowed to personally avenge the tragedy---but he would do it by bringing down the ring and making those involved stand trial for what they had done. He would testify against each and every one of them and see that justice was done that way. Of course, if a situation presented itself where he had to kill someone else to save himself, he would do it. But he could not allow himself to be caught up in hatred again. The very thought of remembering what he had gradually become, culminating in hatefully waiting for the assassin to catch up, downright terrified him.

In the end, he could not get away from feeling like it was his fault David was gone. He had turned to David for help, and even though he realized that he could not have got by without the other's assistance, the guilt still threatened to overwhelm him. But he had to push it aside. He had to complete the quest they had set out to do, the quest David had given his life for. And when it was done, then maybe he could deal with his feelings---as well as what he was going to do with himself.

Going back to the life he had enjoyed before any of this Hell had descended on him sounded like an impossibility. He was no longer that person, and he did not feel like dealing with people who would expect him to be the same and for everything to return to normal. But as far as his friends were concerned, maybe they understood that. Whether or not they would even still want to be friends, at least some of them would surely recognize that he was not the Duke Devlin they had known. And whether it was a good or a bad thing that he was not, remained to be seen.

He sighed, rubbing his eyes. He did not want to remain Ryuuji Otogi; he knew that much. And even if he continued to use the alias for a while longer, he would have to come clean at the trials.

And they would never get to the trials if he could not crack this code.

He took up his pencil, leaning forward again. The solution for '9-2' could even be something simple, such as 'I', the ninth letter in the alphabet, and 'B', the second letter.

_IB?_ That made no sense whatsoever.

He frowned. Maybe it was the initials of some company. But why the hyphen? Was it important somehow?

"Wait a minute," he muttered aloud to the room. "What if it's not 'IB'. . . . What if it's the ninth letter of the alphabet, but the second number? 'I-2'?" Maybe it was a stretch, but Industrial Illusions' headquarters was in San Francisco. And it was a place that Duke had shipped to. As far as he knew, he had not sent anything to a company with the initials 'IB'.

From what he knew of the smugglers, they were bold and shameless. They would infiltrate a large company such as Industrial Illusions if they could. And he had enough confidence in Pegasus that he was sure the man would not be part of it. He was probably as in the dark as Duke had been before he had found the bag of cocaine.

He snatched up the telephone. After a few moments with Information, he had the number for Industrial Illusions. But getting through to Pegasus might prove difficult. At least without revealing one of his identities. Still, he would try anyway.

"I need to talk to Mr. Pegasus," he said when the receptionist answered. "It's important."

"He's in a meeting," the receptionist replied, sounding doubtful. "I could give him a message, but I'd need to know who's calling."

"How long is the meeting?" Duke countered.

"At least another hour," was the response.

"I'll just call back then," Duke said. It probably sounded suspicious, but he was not ready to give a name yet. He hung up with a tired sigh, looking to the paper.

For the next hour he tried every code combination and every other solution he could think of before slumping back and staring at the ceiling in defeat. The only thing that seemed to make any semblance of sense was I-2. He picked up the phone, dialing the company again.

The same receptionist answered. "He just got out of the meeting," she reported. "Should I put you through to his office?"

"Yeah," Duke said, still leaning back in the chair. He closed his eyes, resting a hand against his forearm. He was exhausted.

When Pegasus's voice came on the line, however, he snapped to attention.

"Hello?" the older businessman purred. "Just who is this mysterious man who's been calling me?"

Duke sat up straight, praying he was not making a mistake. "You might not remember me, Mr. Pegasus," he said. "I did some work for you two years ago at the Tokyo branch of I-2---Ryuuji Otogi."

"Ryuuji Otogi!" Pegasus declared, in mock surprise. "Well, my my. You've been naughty, Otogi-boy, making everyone worry about you like they have. Do you know about the statewide searches for you? In fact, I think by now it's all up and down the West Coast and into the Rocky Mountain states! So much work, and yet here you are, calling me as pretty as you please."

"Look, I'll cut right to the chase," Duke retorted. He was not in the mood to be chastised by Pegasus, no matter how much in mocking it was. "The smugglers that infested Duke's---my---store might also be in your company."

Pegasus sobered. "I see," he said. "Well, Otogi-boy, the police already came by to look at the shipment from your store. They didn't find anything out of the ordinary."

"That doesn't mean there wasn't anything," Duke said. "Whoever's responsible could have gotten it away before the investigation."

"Hmm." Pegasus did not sound convinced. "I don't suppose you have any proof of this?"

"Not yet," Duke said. "I'm trying to get it now. But I do have evidence that they may have been talking about your company.

"Meanwhile, you need to be careful. These people are ruthless."

"Yes, so I've heard," Pegasus said. His frown was obvious in the tone of his voice. "What they did to poor David-boy was just horrible."

"And they could do the same to you if you investigate and my hunch is right." He tried to make himself sound as matter-of-fact and cold as possible, but the mention of David pricked him.

"Oh, I'll be as stealthy as my dear Toon monsters," Pegasus said. "I'd say it's you who should be cautious, Otogi-boy."

"There's a reason I've been missing for three weeks," Duke retorted. "Don't let anyone know I'm the one who called you."

"Oooh, so I've been let into your secret confidence? I feel so special!" Pegasus exclaimed.

"Yeah, I'll bet you do," Duke said, unimpressed. "Don't make any sudden moves unless you have to. I'll be coming out as soon as possible to see about this."

"You, Otogi-boy?" Pegasus said. "Oh, you don't trust me to be able to handle my own problems? What an insult!"

"It isn't just your problem," Duke said. "I wasn't able to be there in Vancouver when that branch of the ring was caught. But I'll be there in San Francisco. This problem killed Duke Devlin and David Tanaka. I'll be there to see it put to an end." And yet, the actual end might not come for months. He had long-suspected that the ring operated internationally. If that was so, who knew how long it would take to get every one of the criminals rounded up. But at least he would shut down the American branch and seriously weaken the ring worldwide.

"You know, I've long wondered about just how dead Devlin-boy is," Pegasus said.

Duke froze. "What are you talking about?" he demanded.

"Oh, nothing," Pegasus said airily. "If you really don't know what I mean, then I guess I'm off the mark! And if you do, you won't admit to anything. I guess we'll find out sooner or later, won't we?"

"The only thing we'll be finding out is whether the smugglers are there with you," Duke said. "That's all that matters."

"I guess so. Well, good luck, Otogi-boy, and hopefully we'll meet soon!"

"If it's necessary, we will."

Duke hung up, more exhausted than he had been several moments ago. Talking to Pegasus had drained him. All that "Otogi-boy" nonsense reminded him painfully of David. He reached up, rubbing tiredly at his eyes.

"I'm so selfish," he muttered. "I just wish you were here, David. . . . I wish we'd tried to escape to Vancouver together, in spite of the danger. Maybe we would've made it. . . ."

He reached into his pocket, removing the scrap of torn black-and-tan cloth that David had slipped to him that night. If they had fled to Vancouver, David would not have learned the identity of the ring's mastermind. Duke slumped over the desk, his eyes narrowing in anger.

"Was the only way to learn this at the price of your life?" he said. "And can I ever feel like the trade was worth it?"

No, he knew he never could. He would ensure that David's sacrifice was not in vain---but he would never stop wishing that it had not had to be this way.

His frown deepened. He thought he had decided for certain that he would be going to San Francisco and looking for the proof that Industrial Illusions was being taken over by the smuggler slime. But for some reason, he felt uneasy about it. He had alerted Pegasus to the possible problem. Should he instead return to Domino City and try to bring down the mastermind? He was quite sure that guy was still back there. After all, there was no one to identify him as a criminal.

No one except the man who had died for it.

Yes . . . this idea sounded right. He would go back to Domino. And then when the mastermind had been taken down, he would turn his sights to Brutus Cart and the rest.

He stood up, shoving the notepad into his pocket. He would get ready and leave immediately.

****

Pegasus hung up the phone, his eyes narrowed in thoughtfulness. Was Ryuuji Otogi just paranoid or was there some truth in his concerns? When the police had not found anything in the shipment that should not be there, he had assumed that was the end of it. After all, it did not look as though anyone had ever opened those boxes before.

He tapped the edge of his desk. Come to think of it, hadn't he saved one of the boxes from that shipment as sort of a souvenir? They had just released a new series of Dungeon Dice Monsters, the last thing poor Duke had been designing before his untimely demise. He and Pegasus had even created a couple of the new creatures together. And Pegasus had wanted to personally feel the excitement of opening a box and seeing them all packaged and pretty. But in the ensuing commotion, he had forgotten all about it. The police had not known about it, either.

He got up, strolling out of his office and past the secretary.

"Millie, do hold my calls, won't you?" he said. "I'll be back before long. There's something I forgot I needed to check on."

Millicent blinked. "Yes, Mr. Pegasus," she said. "Of course."

"Good! I knew I could count on you." Pegasus smiled, then moseyed to the elevator.

He was back at his castle retreat just off San Francisco's coast within the hour. Standing in the yard, Croquet looked at him in surprise as he got off the helicopter.

"Mr. Pegasus," he said as Pegasus headed across the pad and to the front steps. "I . . . wasn't expecting you back already. . . ."

"Oh, I'll be going back to I-2 in a little while, Croquet," Pegasus said as they walked up to the doors. "But something has come up that I simply must look into first."

"I see, sir. . . ." Croquet still seemed confused. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"_Merci,_ Croquet, but no," Pegasus said as he pushed open one of the heavy doors and stepped into the front hall. "I'll just be a few minutes." With that he ascended the spacious staircase to the second floor and down the corridor to his bedroom.

He set his briefcase just inside the door before shutting it. After a moment of reflection, he locked it for good measure. Then he crossed the floor to his closet, pulling open the door and clicking on the light inside. There was the box, just where he had left it in the middle of the walk-in room. He walked over and knelt down, taking out his pocket-knife and slicing through the sealing tape.

The crisp packages inside looked and smelled wonderfully fresh. Ah, he just loved the scent of recently-made toys! It was such a shame that Devlin-boy was not around to enjoy the success of the new DDM series.

He dug deeper into the box, removing the little figures. But as he reached the bottom, he blinked in surprise. Here was something he did not remember should have been included.

"Oh my, what's this?" he said aloud, as he pulled out a tightly sealed plastic bag containing an unknown white powder. Undoing the top, he reached in with a finger and pushed it into the substance. Then he brought it to his lips, tasting the fine grains. He grimaced.

"Well, it certainly isn't anything that should be edible," he mused. "Otogi-boy was right."

And once the smugglers realized they were missing something, what would they do then?

A small smirk came over Pegasus's features.

Maybe he could set a trap.

He stood, going back to the door and unlocking it. "Oh Croquet?" he called.

Surprised, his right-hand man came up the stairs and to the doorway. "Yes, sir?" Then he stared at the bag in disbelief.

Pegasus held it out. "Some naughty person put this in a box of Devlin-boy's Dungeon Dice Monsters," he said. "I do believe it's cocaine."

Croquet's mouth dropped open. "C-cocaine, sir?" he stammered.

"Mm-hmm. And now I wonder, what shall I do with it?" Pegasus hefted it in his hand. "Do you think I could get a good price for it on the black market?"

If Croquet had been stunned before, now he was absolutely bowled over. "Sir?" he gasped.

"Or maybe I could get in touch with those nasty smugglers and set up a little blackmailing, hmm?" Pegasus continued, regarding Croquet with a smooth smirk. Would he catch on?

Behind the dark sunglasses, the older man's eyes widened slightly. "Where would you find these . . . smugglers, sir?" he asked.

"Well, I don't know," Pegasus said. "Maybe I'll send a message to everyone in the shipping department that I found something very interesting in a box and would be willing to discuss business over it."

"Is that what you want to do, Mr. Pegasus?" Croquet asked.

"Yes," Pegasus said. "Yes, I'm sure of it." He gave the bag a thoughtful look. "I'll put the word out immediately when I get back to the company. And I'll just take this with me---you know, to make sure nothing happens to it."

Croquet gave a dazed nod. "Yes, sir. . . ."

He watched as Pegasus took up his briefcase, opened it, and placed the illegal drugs inside. Then with a smile, the businessman straightened up. "There," he said as he snapped the parcel shut.

With that, he turned and walked down the hall as if everything was perfectly natural.

****

It was dark by the time the commercial jet landed at the Domino City International Airport. Duke got off as quickly as possible, threading his way through the crowds as he headed into the airport. It helped that he did not have any luggage to speak of; he would not have to wait at the merry-go-round.

Soon he was on his way out, hailing a cab into town. The Black Crown should still be open, he estimated as they drove away. It should be about to close, in fact. If he hurried, he might still make it.

"Step on it," he said to the cabbie.

"Hey, I'm going at the speed limit now," the driver retorted. "You business types are always in a hurry. We'll be to town soon enough."

Duke sighed, slumping back against the seat.

It was ten minutes later when they drove into the heart of downtown Domino City. The stores and restaurants were abuzz with activity due to the oncoming holiday season. The cab slowed out of necessity as people crossed the street up ahead.

"You said you wanna be let out at the Black Crown?" the driver said as they finally turned onto that street after several minutes of waiting at crosswalks and semaphores.

"That's right," Duke said. "This is good enough." He leaped out of the cab before it had even quite stopped moving, tossing a bill behind him at the cabbie. "Here."

The store was still lit. That was good. He walked as fast as he could to the doors, pausing to peer inside when he arrived. The assistant manager was clearing several packs of merchandise off the counter. From his exhausted expression, he had been overworked for some time. That was not a surprise, with both the owner and the manager gone.

"This is it," Duke muttered to himself. He stepped forward. The automatic doors slid open, admitting him into the display room.

"I'm sorry," Jared said automatically. "We're closing right now. . . ."

"I'm glad to see you're punctual in my absence," Duke said.

Jared froze, the DDM packs slipping from his hands. "Mr. Otogi?!" he gasped, stuttering over his words as he straightened up to look.

"That's right," Duke said. He reached behind him, turning the deadbolt to seal the doors before advancing further into the store. "Back from the dead."

Jared swallowed. "Y-you were missing, sir," he said.

"Because Mr. Tanaka tried to kill me," Duke said. "Or wait . . . maybe because the assassin who killed him chased me through several states. I'm guessing you heard about the hitman found dead in a cheap Montana motel."

"I . . . I did," Jared said. "It was a relief, sir. When I heard that, I was sure you were alive!"

"A relief?" Duke said. "Or maybe a frustration."

Jared stared at him. "What are you talking about, Mr. Otogi?!" he exclaimed, his eyes wide with shock.

"Now you have to think of a new way to kill me," Duke said. "Again."

Jared could only gawk, unable to believe what he was hearing. "Sir, you're not well," he said at last. "You need to rest. I know you must have been through something horrible. . . ."

"Oh, well, that's the first truth I've heard from you in a long time," Duke said. His voice and eyes were cold and accusing. "Thanks to you, I've been through several 'something horrible's. You tried to blow me up in my own car. When that didn't work, you sent someone to trash my apartment and then had Veronica Travis go write threats on my mirror. You hired someone to take samples for a DNA test. You tried to have David Tanaka kill me. And you still couldn't get me, so you had David killed and sent the assassin after me."

All the time he was speaking, he was walking towards Jared at the counter. The assistant manager was clenching his fists on the smooth glass, emotions passing through his eyes. He was shocked. He was angry. He was hateful. But when he spoke, his voice revealed none of that.

"Mr. Devlin, sir, you can't prove any of what you're saying."

A smirk came over Duke's features. "I can prove it," he said. "Killing David was the stupidest thing you could have done. See, the dead speak out from the grave." He reached into his pocket, closing his fist around the cloth. As he pulled his hand back out, he uncurled his fingers, revealing the silky scrap of black-and-tan material.

Jared turned several shades of pale. Duke's smirk deepened.

"It's from your tie," he said. "Probably the black one with the Tasmanian Devil, right? David tore it from you during your fight, right before the assassin shot him in cold blood."

For a long moment Jared just stood and stared. Then he whirled, bolting towards and up the stairs.

Duke shoved the cloth back in his pocket before following in hot pursuit. He winced as his leg throbbed in protest, but he pushed himself to run anyway.

"Give it up, Jared," he commanded. "You're unarmed. There's nowhere for you to run."

The footsteps still thundered down the hall. Jared was running to the stairs, barreling up to the vacant third floor. Glaring in that direction, Duke gave chase.

The door banged on the wall as Jared reached the head of the stairs. He kept running, through the large and empty room and towards the stairs leading to the attic. As Duke arrived at the third floor, a burst of cold air blew right at him. The door to the roof in the attic had just been thrown open.

"Jared, don't be an idiot!" Duke yelled. He ran towards and up the stairs, into the attic, and up the last flight of stairs, bursting onto the darkened roof a moment later. Now all was silent. He looked around, his eyes narrowing in the night. The only light was coming from the moon and stars above, as well as a nearby streetlamp.

Wait . . . was that a glint of light in the corner? He turned for a better look. Then he stiffened in stunned horror and disbelief.

Jared was being held in front of a man with wild red hair, a knife to his throat. He kept completely still, the terror obvious on his face even in the dim light.

The redhead smirked. "So we meet again, Mr. Devlin," he said. "This time I have the upper hand once more, just as it should be. And now I have a proposition for you---surrender unless you want to see what your assistant manager's throat will look like if it's slit."

****

Pegasus looked up from his computer screen as the door to his office opened. "Really now, no manners?" he said, eying the unknown girl who had just stepped inside. "It's most polite to knock first. I had been just about to leave, actually." He had not been, if truth were to be told. He had been certain that someone would come to him only after the company's regular hours had ended. And he had intended to stay as long as it took.

The girl regarded him, her eyes hard. "I heard you found something in a box, sir," she said.

He shrugged. "I may have," he said. "Is that all you heard?"

"I heard you wanted to discuss business." Her expression never changed. "That's what I'm here for."

"Wonderful!" Pegasus clapped his hands. "Then I'm guessing you already know what I found."

"I have a pretty good idea," she said. She kept one hand on her purse as she spoke---an odd gesture, since her purse was hanging from a secure strap on her shoulder.

"Then do tell." Pegasus leaned back, appearing completely unconcerned and casual. The less threatening he looked, the more he might potentially learn.

The woman had her hand in her purse in the next instant, withdrawing a small pistol. "Hand over the sack, sir," she said as she pointed it at him. "It was an oversight that it ended up with you."

"Oh no! Whatever shall I do?!" Pegasus cried, throwing his hands in the air. "This wasn't the kind of business I meant to transact!"

The employee kept her hand perfectly steady. "Please don't try any of your tricks, Mr. Pegasus," she said. "I don't want to go to extreme measures."

"And you won't, of course," Pegasus said. "Killing Devlin-boy is one thing. Killing the president of an international corporation is quite another, something you won't risk." He shrugged. "I have nothing to lose and everything to gain."

She frowned, suspicion flickering in her eyes. "You don't want to join us," she said.

"Well, who knows," Pegasus said cheerfully. "Maybe it would be to both of our advantage."

She shook her head. "I don't have authority to make decisions like that. . . ."

"But you have enough authority to come in here waving your gun around, hmm?" Pegasus clasped his hands on his desk. "Tell me, how many businesses do you have your little operations in? Is this regional? Nationwide? International?"

Her eyes flashed. Clearly she was losing patience. "Give me the sack, sir," she said.

He shook a finger at her. "Uh-uh, not until I'm done asking questions!" he said.

She practically screamed in frustration. But before she could do anything more, the door burst open as armed security guards rushed inside. She turned to stare, the color draining from her face. "What's . . ."

Pegasus stood up, pleased. "You really must not be very high up in their ranks," he said. "You see, you made a fatal mistake---you never stopped to consider that I would be filming everything on my security cameras!"

Now her eyes burned. Even as the security guards moved to surround her, she raised her hand and shot at Pegasus. Without waiting to see if she had hit him, she turned to flee.

One of the guards opened fire before she had gotten more than several yards away. She dropped with a cry, the gun falling from her hand. Another sentry grabbed for it.

Pegasus straightened up, gripping his wounded upper arm. "What happened?" he demanded.

"I shot her in the leg, sir," the guard said.

Pegasus nodded in approval. "Good, good. Now, send for the police."

The sentry looked to him in concern. "I'd better get a medic too," he said.

"Oh yes, I suppose so," Pegasus said, looking at the blood in distaste.

On the floor, the girl moaned and cursed.

****

Duke looked from the grinning mercenary to Jared and back again, his heart picking up speed. He needed . . . he _wanted_ Jared alive. After everything he had done, he did not deserve to get off as easy as through death. But in addition to that, Duke did not want to see anyone else die. Too much blood had been spilled on this case already.

And at the same time, Duke could not let himself be taken prisoner. If he surrendered, he would be giving himself up for dead.

"I'm giving you two minutes," said the redhead.

"Do . . . do what he says," Jared rasped.

Duke's eyes narrowed. "Something doesn't make sense with this picture," he said. "Aren't you working for him?" He looked to the assassin and nodded to Jared.

"I was hired by Brutus Cart," was the reply, "and Brutus has had his men after me because I ran away."

Duke frowned more. "So what are you doing now by coming back?" he asked.

"Getting my revenge on you," the hitman said. "You cost me a lot of money when you stole those things from me in Tanaka's house."

"So you're not making any money on this mission?" Duke said, raising an eyebrow. "You're just out on a personal blood quest?"

"We're wasting time!" the redhead spat, cursing at Duke. "Make up your mind."

Duke looked from him to Jared again. "That's the whole point," he said. "I think you're in on this together. Maybe Jared offered to pardon you if you could bring me down, so you came up with this idea to try to force my hand." He glowered at his assistant manager. "I don't think you're in any danger at all."

"You're crazy!" Jared said. "I didn't know you were coming!"

"But maybe _he_ did." Duke looked to the assassin. "Maybe he found out and got here before me. And maybe you had a nice little meeting before I showed up."

"You have an answer for everything, don't you." The mercenary glared at him. "I'm sorry to say you're right about this one, too." He released Jared and stepped aside. "But you're mistaken if you think you're getting away from here. Tonight, Duke Devlin is going to die for real." His knife gleamed with the reflections of the stars.

"You'll never take me." Duke drew two dice from his pocket, flinging them at the man in rapid succession. One bounced off the blade, but the other hit the killer in the eye. He yelled, dropping the weapon as both hands flew to his face.

"You idiot!" Jared cried.

Duke stepped on the knife, then kicked it across the roof. But as he lunged for the hitman, a bullet whizzed past his ear. He fell back with a shocked gasp. The murderer had been shot in the heart.

The redhead's hands came away from his face, now clapping over his chest in his disbelief. "No," he whispered in horror. He staggered, then collapsed on his side, falling still.

Both Duke and Jared whirled to look towards the direction of the gunshot. Duke stiffened at the sight of Brutus Cart emerging from the shadows of the roof.

"I always have my revenge," the cruel man growled. "I have eyes and ears everywhere. I knew that failure had come back to town. I just waited until he got you up here before I got rid of him, so he could serve some use." His expression twisted in a cruel sneer. "And now you'll meet the same fate."

Duke glared. "I don't think so," he said. He struggled to push down the new anger that was rising in his heart. This man, the one who had hurt David on more than one occasion, the one who had sent him to the Imperial Hotel and his death, was right in front of him. He reached for another die.

"What's the deal, anyway?" he said. "Your boss hired that guy. If you knew he was back in town, you must have also known that."

"Oh, I did." Brutus's visage grew all the more sadistic. "I think it's high-time that I take over this operation altogether."

"Don't try it, Brutus." Jared glared at his second-in-command. "I'll shoot you dead before you have the chance."

Now Duke could see the glint from another gun. "Oh great," he muttered to himself. He had been wrong about Jared being unarmed. Worse, he was caught right in the middle of a gang dispute. As if his situation was not dire enough.

Brutus abruptly turned, firing once at Jared before sending a bullet at Duke. The teen barely managed to dodge. His heart pounded as he raced across the roof, fighting to avoid the lead from two weapons. Jared had started to shoot at him too. And both guns had silencers. If anyone was outside, they would not hear a thing. He had to pray that they would see something amiss if they looked up.

He was nearing the edge of the roof when Brutus threw down his now-empty gun in furious disgust. With a cry and a stream of profanity, the treacherous man lunged out of the night, wrapping his arms around Duke's waist.

"Hey!" Duke yelled. "What do you think you're doing?! You're going to fall too!" He fought to stay upright, even as Brutus fought to send them over the side. Jared stopped firing, just staring in shock.

"I'll kill you!" Brutus roared. "I'll make you die for real!" He slammed his head against Duke's, at the same moment shoving hard at the younger man's body.

The sudden dizziness was too much. Duke tumbled over the edge, Brutus being dragged with him.

"Oh God," Duke whispered, as he had that fateful night of the explosion. "I don't want to die. I probably deserve that, but . . . please . . . spare my life one more time. . . ."

Jared's mouth dropped open as they fell. He ran to the edge, gripping his gun in his hand. "Mr. Devlin?!" he yelled. "Brutus?!" Then he could only stare again. Both of them were clinging in desperation to the large clown figure at the front of the store.

Duke gritted his teeth, clutching at one of the pieces of hair sticking out from the left side of the clown's head. Brutus was on the clown's back. And though he had been momentarily stunned, it was wearing off. He looked to Duke, his lips curling in a disgusting sneer.

"I'll send you to Hell," he vowed. Trying to be careful, he began to inch his body over the back of the clown's, coming closer to Duke.

Duke swallowed hard. What was he going to do? He could not possibly drop from where he was right now. His heart pounding, he did the only thing he could. He inched the other way, towards the clown's face. He reached out, swiping only empty air. He was not close enough to grab the nose.

A bullet whistled past, narrowly missing his hand. _Jared!_ That creep was not going to wait for Brutus to kill him.

His legs dangling, Duke tried to ease himself downward. Then he got a foothold. He slid his hands down the clown's hair as he balanced on the arm. Then, as Brutus continued to come, he moved down the arm to the elbow. The wind whipped against his face as he fought for balance, turning carefully to face the forearm and the hand. Maybe, if he could reach the hand, he could ease himself down, grabbing the Black Crown sign underneath, and then be close enough to drop to the ground without fear of serious injury.

The hair on the back of his neck prickled. Brutus was still coming. Now he was easing himself onto the arm as well. Duke dared to look over his shoulder. Brutus had not come as far to the front of the figure as Duke had. He was taking a greater risk to try to get onto the arm from his more sideways angle.

A second bullet was suddenly coming through the air while Duke was distracted. He gasped, ducking as it sailed by and embedded itself in the clown's white glove. Then he rose up, again inching his way to the hand.

The arm trembled as Brutus added his weight. "You're not getting away this time," the crazed man hissed. "How many times can someone like you survive death?!" Gaining the elbow, he began to turn around as Duke had done.

By now Duke was climbing onto the clown's hand. Jared fired a third time, this time clipping Duke's arm. He hissed in pain at the sting. Crimson snaked from the wound, quickly making its way to his hand.

Brutus grinned a horrible, bloodthirsty grin. "Yes!" he said as he moved closer. "I want to see more blood. I want to see your broken body laying on the ground, with no hope of resuscitation!" He reached out, grabbing for Duke. The teen pulled ahead, the hand scraping thin air.

The failure only made the wretched man grow even more insane. "Die!" he roared, swiping in vain a second time.

Duke moved further towards the fingers, his right hand slipping from the blood. He gasped, gripping the clown's hand with his left hand. His arm throbbed.

Brutus grabbed for him once more. _"DIE!"_ he wailed, his voice strangled.

Instead he lost his footing. With a scream of terror he plunged off of the arm and to the pavement below. The horrible crack and the angle of his neck testified of an instant death.

Duke swallowed hard, looking away from the sight. He had to get down from here without suffering the same fate. And above him, it sounded like Jared was reloading his gun. Not waiting for him to finish, Duke crawled onto the tops of the fingers. The sign was right below him now. Could he get a foothold?

He pushed himself off of the hand, hanging helplessly in mid-air with only the clown's fingers between him and a broken neck. He swung inward in desperation, struggling to catch hold of the sign.

A bullet shaved the tops of the fingers on his left hand as it flew past. He cried out in pain, his grip loosening. And his right hand was still sticky from the blood on his arm.

Above him, Jared laughed. It was a dark, cruel sound.

"Just give up, Mr. Devlin," he said. "Brutus couldn't hold his own up there. It's only a matter of time before you fall too. And if you don't, I'll shoot you down. One way or another, you're dead."

Duke grabbed once more for the clown's fingers with his scraped hand. "I'm not going to die," he hissed. Again he swung himself forward. This time he caught hold of the sign with his feet. He eased one hand down, down, until he gripped the top edge. Then he brought his other hand down as well. Here he was protected from the bullets. Jared could not even see him from the roof.

He looked over his shoulder at the ground as he began to climb down the sign to the bottom edge. Did he dare jump yet? He lowered himself, finally letting his legs hang free as he grabbed the bottom edge with his hands. This was as far as he could possibly go. He let go, praying under his breath.

Then he hit the ground on his feet. For a moment he remained in the half-crouched position, disbelieving. But then he straightened up, willing his heart to calm itself. He was alive. Not only that, he had made it to solid ground. He looked around, stunned into silence as he gave thanks for his survival.

His problems were not over yet, however. Jared would be coming back down, through the building. And the doors were locked. He had the key, but maybe he should lay in wait for the creep instead. He darted into the shadows by the side of the doors to wait. Then something on the ground caught his eye. He bent down, grabbing it and managing to hide just before Jared arrived on the main floor.

"Alright, Mr. Devlin," the crime boss said as he unlocked the double doors and stepped outside. "You couldn't have got far. How about we negotiate?"

"Negotiate this!" Duke retorted, coming from behind and striking him with the butt of Brutus's empty gun.

Jared's eyes widened in shock and pain. Then he slumped forward, unconscious. His own gun fell from his hand as he crashed to the ground. Duke kicked it away, breathing heavily as he stared at the scene.

"I did it," he whispered, not quite believing it himself. "I did it. . . ."

He knelt down, undoing Jared's tie and using it to bind his hands. Then he straightened, staring across the street as something caught his eye. The door at the Turtle Game Shop was wide open. Someone who looked like Yugi was standing there, staring in shock.

"Is everything okay over there?!" he called in alarm. "I heard screams, so I called the police. . . ."

Duke looked over at his friend. So close and yet so far away. This was definitely not the time to reveal his identity, yelling across the street from each other.

"Yeah," he called back in Otogi's voice. "It's okay now."

He looked down at the senseless Jared. "It's okay now," he repeated, more to himself.

But there was still a hole in his heart.

Nothing would ever mend that.

He snapped back to attention as a squad car pulled up in front of the store. Gabrielle Valesquez alighted, hastening over to him.

"Mr. Otogi?" she said, the relief obvious in her voice and on her face.

Duke looked at her. "Yeah," he said.

"We've been looking everywhere for you," she said. "We were afraid of the worst."

"I heard that." Duke sighed. "I'm sorry. It couldn't be helped."

She stared at the scene before her. "What happened here?!" she gasped.

He just looked weary. "I'll give a full report at the station," he said. "But you'd better call the morgue. There's one dead guy down here and another on the roof." He looked to Jared. "This one's alive. He's the mastermind behind everything."

Gabrielle followed his gaze. "He is?!" she said.

Duke nodded. "He was right under my nose the whole time," he growled. "But he won't hurt anyone anymore."

Gabrielle reached down, hauling the semi-conscious Jared to his feet. "Okay, buddy, you're going to jail," she said. "And hopefully prison after that." She looked to Duke. "Will you be riding to the station with me?"

Duke hesitated, but then shook his head. "I don't think so," he said. "I'll come down later. I need to be here when the morgue comes, to let them onto the roof."

Gabrielle nodded. "Alright then. But I'd better check the premises, to make sure there aren't any more spooks lurking around."

"I don't think you'll find anyone, but go ahead," Duke said.

She hesitated. "Mr. Otogi . . . I need to ask you something," she said. "What really happened to Duke Devlin?"

He stiffened. "What do you mean?" he asked.

"Did he really die in that explosion?" Her voice was quiet, kind, concerned. She had always been an ally before. From everything Duke had heard, she was still on their side now. But after Jared's betrayal, he was still stinging.

"I don't know," he said, turning to go inside the Black Crown. "When I figure that out, I'll tell you. Maybe."

A sad smile made its way over Gabrielle's features. "You are a brave man, Duke Devlin," she said, soft enough that only she and he would hear.

He paused. "I don't know about that," he said. "I'm just doing what everyone wants to do---survive." He clenched a fist. "What David will never have the chance to do now."

With that he walked through the glass doors.

Gabrielle watched him with sadness. Without directly saying it, he had confirmed her suspicions. And he had also made something else very clear.

It would take a long time for him to heal.


	16. In the Lonely Light of Morning

**Notes: A cemetery I know well lent itself to the descriptions.**

**Chapter Sixteen**

**In the Lonely Light of Morning**

_Ring._

_He was so tired. . . . Did he have to answer right now?_

_Ring._

_Well . . . maybe he had better. No one should even know he was up here, except the police. Maybe it was important._

_Ring._

_Or maybe he should answer just to make the noise shut up._

_He fumbled for the receiver, half-asleep as he brought it to his ear. "Hello?" he mumbled._

_  
"Devlin-boy!"_

_That brought him to full awareness. He shot up in his office chair, his eyes flying open. "Pegasus?!" he gasped._

_"I knew that would wake you up!" Pegasus said in delight._

_Duke rubbed at his right eye. "My name is . . ."_

_"Ryuuji Otogi, yes, yes, I know," Pegasus said impatiently. "Well, Devlin-boy, I thought you would be happy to know that you were right! There is a nest of smugglers right here at my poor company. Can you believe such a terrible, terrible thing? And my discovery of a loose sack of cocaine has got them all on the run! We have one girl in custody who finally confessed. They're trying to get all of their wares, and themselves, out of San Francisco! I knew you would want to join us at the docks if you possibly could."_

_Duke had already put the phone on Speaker and was getting out of his chair. "I'm on the next flight down," he said. Judging from the clock, he had gotten back from the police station almost an hour ago. He could not have been asleep long. He was not even sure why he had gone back to the Black Crown instead of returning home. But he had, and he had foolishly dozed right at his desk when in the process of trying to get papers and folders in order._

_"I took the liberty of sending a private jet for you," Pegasus said. "Go to Gate Twelve at the airport."_

_Duke paused, surprised. "Thanks," he said._

_"Think nothing of it! You alerted me to this catastrophe, after all. I'm only returning the favor. This is sort of a personal, private war for you, isn't it?"_

_"It's important to me, yeah." Duke reached for the dial tone button. "I'll see you soon."_

****

The abnormally loud sound of the dial tone brought Duke back to awareness. He groaned, his eyes opening as he tried to focus on the source of the commotion. The telephone receiver was off the hook, the Speaker button pressed and activated. He pushed it again and the noise diminished, much to his relief. He dropped the receiver into its cradle as he straightened up, running a hand through his hair. He actually had fallen asleep after ending a business-related call. But it could be worse, he supposed---he could have fallen asleep _before_ ending it.

He was exhausted.

On that long-past night he had gone to San Francisco as proposed, arriving at the docks in time to help stop the departing smugglers. It had particularly given him pleasure to fling a pair of dice at Rich, who had relocated to San Francisco along with most of the rest of the Domino City branch. Now they were all in custody. Searches were underway to catch any other possible branches of the ring, which had rumored international hideouts in Tokyo, Shanghai, and Malaysia.

With the immediate danger passed, the police were also looking for Veronica Travis and her unofficially adopted sister Mary Cart. They, and Duke, were hoping that the women truly were in hiding and that Brutus had not found and killed them both. Maybe, if they had access to the news, they would see that it was safe to come out now and do so.

Duke was still Ryuuji Otogi, however---and by now several more weeks had passed. It was not that he was afraid of danger should he reveal his identity. No, the explanation was, as far as he was concerned, much more mundane.

Simply put, he was _tired._ He did not want to deal with the reporters hounding him and his friends being furious and hurt and possible legal entanglements and everything else that could potentially result from him becoming Duke Devlin again. After what he had been through, he did not feel like he could bear to deal with it yet.

He knew he was being selfish, at least where his friends were concerned. Would they be able to understand how he felt at all? Would they have any inkling of how badly damaged he was or of how he felt he needed time alone to try to heal enough to face the consequences of his actions?

Or maybe at the heart of everything was Gabrielle Valesquez's question, still ringing through his mind. _"What really happened to Duke Devlin? Did he really die in that explosion?"_

He still did not know how to answer. And how could he reveal himself as Duke Devlin when he was not even sure that person still existed?

Even though he had been absolutely ready to drop after the experience in San Francisco those weeks ago, he had returned to Domino that night. And then, in the stillness of the early morning, he had done something he had both longed and dreaded to do for weeks. He had taken a cab to perhaps the loneliest spot in the city.

_"You're kidding, right?" the cabbie said._

_"No," Duke said. "I want to be let off here."_

_The driver shook his head. "You're braver than me," he said, as he pulled up in front of a cold and locked wrought-iron gate. "You couldn't get me to go in there at two A.M. for a million bucks! . . . Well, maybe for a million . . . if I didn't have to walk all over in there. . . ."_

_A wry smirk crossed Duke's features. "Why are you so afraid?" he said as he dug out his wallet and handed him a bill. "It's just a resting place for the dead. We're all going to die someday. And going in there isn't going to make it happen any sooner."_

_"I guess," the cabbie said as he accepted the bill. "I know I've probably just seen too many horror flicks, but man! It gives me the creeps just standing outside! And you're goin' in?!"_

_"You won't get me in trouble with the law, will you?" Duke said lightly, reaching for the door._

_  
The driver sighed. "You don't really look like a vandal," he said. "In fact . . ." He peered at Duke. "Hey, aren't you . . ."_

_Duke stepped outside, brushing his loose hair away from his green eyes. "I think I'll feel right at home in there," he said. "After all, I'm a ghost too."_

_The cabbie stared at him, never averting his gaze as Duke shut the door and then walked to the gate, climbing up and over and dropping down on the other side. Then the worn-out driver shook his head in disbelief._

_"It couldn't be," he gasped. "It just couldn't!"_

_But he watched until Duke was out of sight among the trees, flashlight in hand._

_Duke was partially right. In any case, he did not feel afraid within the cemetery gates. But the sadness he felt as he went deeper into the large memorial grounds increased with each footstep. He had already gotten the location of the grave off the cemetery's website, and he had known the approximate location, anyway. He kept walking, passing by small hills, a cobblestone wall, and old and abandoned family plots with lonely iron gates and overgrown grass and weeds._

_"You've been forgotten," he said aloud, not expecting to be overheard by the spirits of those resting beneath the ground. "Someday . . . I guess all of us will be. Even me. In the big scheme of things, what am I? Just a game designer. I haven't done anything to change the world. And through the ages, the only people who are remembered are the ones who've really made a difference in a city . . . a state . . . a country. . . . The world. . . ."_

_He swallowed hard. "Even David. . . . He made a difference to me . . . and to his family . . . and to everyone he knew . . . but in a hundred years, will anyone remember him? Or will he be forgotten, just like all of you?"_

_He clenched a fist. "I want him to be remembered," he said. "Even if I'm forgotten, his name should live on."_

_He climbed another hill. By now he was nearing the more recent and modern section. The Tanakas owned several plots in the unofficial Asian-American part of the cemetery. And though most of that area was devoid of trees, David had been buried by two large pines near the edge of the clearing. That had to be it over there, Duke decided---beyond the memorials with Chinese and Japanese and Korean characters._

_He walked the rest of the way over, then sank onto a stone bench. Now that he was actually here, he felt more ready to collapse than ever. His muscles, bones, everything, ached as he sat down, staring at the headstone in front of him._

_**David Tanaka**_

_**Beloved Son, Brother, Uncle, and Friend**_

_**1989-2009**_

_Duke slumped to the side, resting his body against the trunk of the pine tree directly next to the bench. He passed a hand over his eyes. Maybe, in some foolish part of his mind, he hoped that he could make the truth go away. It was all a bad dream. When he took his hand away, he would be at a different grave, or not in the cemetery at all. David would be alive. None of this would have happened. But when he let his hand drop, the stone writing was still there._

_He had rarely ever cried in his eighteen years. His father would have been disgusted by such a thing. And partially because of that, he had trained himself to be strong and to not shed tears. But the loneliness he felt now was so deep, so intense, so overwhelming, that he felt like he was going to just break down and sob for the second time in a month._

_Instead he drew a shuddering breath. "We did it, David," he whispered to the frozen autumn night. "The smugglers . . . they've been caught. Well . . . those hitmen they hired are dead . . . and . . . Goatee Man. . . ." He allowed a shaky smirk at the mention of the silly nickname David had invented._

_The headstone was the kind that included a small, protected picture of the deceased. Duke liked those kind, to be able to see what the person had looked like; it made them more real, instead of just a name. But staring at the photograph of David made his heart hurt worse. At the same time, he could not look away._

_  
"I couldn't have done it without you," he said. "You're the one responsible for proving Jared's guilt. And I'll fight to make sure he goes to prison for what he did. I won't stop fighting until every one of those smugglers get what they deserve."_

_He shook his head. "I wish I'd made it to the funeral," he said. "I only read it about later in the newspapers and the tabloids. You know I would've come if I could have, right?" He looked down. "I was still on the run for my life then. I got chased all across Oregon, into Idaho, even Montana, before it ended. Before I ended it._

_"Do you know what I did? I guess you do, huh. I let myself be overcome by hate." He swallowed hard. "I killed a man, David. It ended up being to save myself . . . and I know I eventually would have been forced to do it anyway . . . but it horrifies me, that I stopped running and got hold of a gun just so I could do it. . . . I wasn't thinking much about self-defense then. I hated him so much. . . . And I was so sick of living in terror, especially after what he'd done, that I just wanted to see him dead. But then when I had to kill him to save my life, and I saw the blood there, all over the floor . . . I . . . I realized what I'd started turning into. I could have even ended up like Goatee Man, driven just by hate and anger."_

_He looked back to the picture. David was smiling in it, that sort of quiet, mischievous smile when you never knew exactly what he was thinking. A lump came back into Duke's throat._

_". . . I don't think I ever really became Otogi," he confessed. "Not even then. . . . I didn't feel detached from what I wanted to do. That was me, the real me. And I . . . I just broke down. I didn't even know how I was going to make myself get up off that floor and do what I knew I needed to. But I did. I knew I couldn't let all of our work . . . your sacrifice . . . anything, be in vain. So I forced myself to keep going."_

_He ran the bandaged fingers of his left hand into his hair. "I don't know what I'm going to do now," he said. "I need to let everyone know Duke Devlin didn't die in that explosion, but . . . David, I don't know that he didn't. I don't know who I am anymore. I feel like if I am Duke Devlin, I'm him in name only. I'm nothing like the person I used to be._

_"And . . . I know if you were here, you'd know just the right thing to say to make me believe in myself again. You always did._

_"I miss you . . . so much. . . ." Duke pulled his coat closer around him. Now the lump was making it hard to speak. "I feel so selfish! I know you didn't want to die, but you're probably happier where you are now. I shouldn't be wishing you back for my sake. . . ."_

_He frowned. "I know it isn't just for me, though," he said. "It's for you . . . for your family. . . . At least . . . I think it is . . . and then I wonder if I'm just trying to justify my selfishness."_

_Now he felt the sob coming. "I . . . I'm so sorry," he rasped. "I know you'd tell me it wasn't my fault, but . . . I also know your family hates me. They never liked me before and they'll never forgive me now. And I don't blame them one bit. I'll never forgive me, either."_

_And he cried. As he sat there, on the cold bench in the biting autumn night, he cried until his tears were spent. Then he took a shaking breath, brushing the hair away from his face._

_"What?" he choked out, managing a wan smirk. "You always knew I was just pretending to be tough. To be honest . . . I never felt more alone and afraid than I did those weeks on the run and that night in the motel. I'm still afraid. But . . . I'm trying not to feel alone. You'd like that, right?"_

_He pushed himself off the bench. "You'd probably also tell me to go home and get some sleep," he said. "And I don't think I can. But I guess I'll try."_

_He started to walk away, back the way he had come. But then he stopped. Compelled for a reason he did not understand, he looked back. Nothing had changed, of course. Still, before he could go on, there was something more he had to say._

_"Thank you . . . for everything," he said, more quiet than before. "David . . . you were and always will be my brother. I love you."_

_He trudged away from the lonely spot._

In the present, Duke was staring out the window at the winter afternoon, lost in the memories of that cold night. He tried to visit David's grave often, especially since none of his family lived nearby. The most recent time he had gone, he had brushed the snow away from the headstone and the bench and then had just sat there for a while.

He talked to David whenever he went. It felt natural to him, even though he did not know whether David's spirit ever visited that spot. But his tongue was loosed anyway; he almost felt that David would be affronted if Duke said nothing, as if he was being ignored.

He had heard of experiences people had had where they felt their departed loved ones near. He had longed for that, had even prayed for it---but he had never had such a sensation. He believed in the afterlife---and he knew firsthand it existed, after everything that had happened with Atem---so he knew David's spirit lived on somewhere. But that was not the same as feeling him near . . . or even getting to have one last, two-sided conversation and being able to say a proper goodbye. He still longed for it, albeit he did not have any hope that it would ever happen.

It was December now. The holiday celebrations in Domino were in full swing. But he could not bring himself to think of participating. The grief was still too near. And he had no one to celebrate with, even if he felt like it. Not as long as he was Ryuuji Otogi, self-proclaimed loner. He could reveal himself as Duke Devlin, but that would just be him being selfish again, wouldn't it? It would throw everyone into a state of shock and turmoil right before Christmas. And they would all be too upset to want to be around him. Unless maybe Serenity would. . . .

He swallowed hard. Serenity knew his secret and had for weeks. What kind of a burden had that put on her? He had finally emailed Joey after the events in San Francisco, to let him know it was safe to return, but he had not spoken to either him or Serenity since then. He had immersed himself in his work, and had really been quite overworked, as he had refused to hire a new manager. It was too soon for that. He could not bear the thought of someone else occupying David's office and holding his position. Maybe in time he would feel able to move on that much, but for now he preferred to do David's job as well as his own.

. . . At the heart of everything, he supposed he just felt too unworthy to consider observing Christmas this year. Or maybe ever. Because of his past actions . . . because of David's death . . . how would the Tanakas ever deal with the holidays? How could he even think of celebrating when they were so grief-stricken? A painful hole had been torn in their family, one that could not be mended. And it was his fault.

A soft knock at the door brought him to attention. "Yeah?" he called. Probably some news of business he needed to tend to. . . .

He could not have been more stunned when the door opened. Serenity stood there, in all her innocence and beauty, her hazel eyes both joyous and saddened at the same time.

"Duke," she whispered.

He froze, his mind going blank. "Serenity," he whispered back.

She ran in, letting the door shut behind her as she went to him. He stood, unsure of exactly what to do. But she knew. She pulled him close in an embrace as the tears came to her eyes.

"I can't imagine what you've been through," she said. "I've missed you so much. . . . And I've been so worried. . . ."

Duke closed his eyes. He wanted to hug back, to let her know that he never wanted to let go . . . but if he did not feel worthy for the holidays, he certainly did not feel worthy to touch someone so pure.

Gently he laid his hands on her shoulders, easing her back so he could look into her eyes. "I'm not the one you knew back then, Serenity," he said quietly. "I don't even know what happened to him."

She stared at him, into the green eyes filled with pain and anguish and indescribable guilt. "He's still in here," she said, laying her hand over his heart. "Duke Devlin can never die."

He shook his head. "If you knew what I've done . . ." He ran his tongue over his lips. Suddenly he longed more than anything to confess, to get it off his chest and into the open . . . to not have any lies between him and Serenity, or between him and any of the others. He wanted to be free.

". . . I killed a man, Serenity," he said. His heart twisted as her eyes grew wide.

". . . The horrible man in Montana?" she asked at last. "I saw the news. . . . And I wondered . . ." She trailed off.

He nodded. "I know I killed him to save myself, but . . . I was waiting for him that night," he said, his voice breaking. "I wanted him to come so I could kill him. I hated him so much. . . ." He stared into her sweet hazel eyes. "I let myself turn into a monster. . . ."

She stared back, at a loss for words. "Duke . . ." she said at last, but then did not know how to say more.

"You deserve someone better than me," he said. "Tristan . . . he's always loved you too. . . . And he's never done what I have." He stepped away from her. "My hands are stained with blood. . . ."

She bit her lip. But then she reached for his strong yet graceful hands, holding them close between her own small and delicate hands. He stared at her, watching as she ran her fingers over the backs of his hands.

"Your hands still look clean to me," she said softly. She looked up into his shocked eyes. "You aren't a murderer, Duke."

He stared, his heart gathering speed. Now he was the one at a loss for words. "Serenity . . ." he gasped. She was too young, too innocent. She could not really comprehend what she was saying.

And yet . . . the eyes he was staring into were not the eyes of a naive child. Serenity was a maturing young woman.

She released his hands. "I . . . I tried to see you before, but I never could," she said. "And . . . well, you haven't said anything to anyone, so I . . . I figured you weren't ready. But Duke . . . I'm so worried about you! You can't stay alone forever."

"I wasn't going to," he said. Still . . . had he really thought a time would come when he would feel able to step out from the facade? When he would be able to say that Duke Devlin truly was alive and well? When he would not only be able to say it, but believe it?

"Sometimes . . . you need friends beside you to help you be ready to face the world," she said. "I learned that, from Joey and everyone . . . including you, Duke." Tears glistened in her eyes. "Please . . . won't you come back? Won't you come home for Christmas?"

He gazed at her for a long moment. "I don't know if I can," he said then.

"I'll help you," she said. "I'll be right by your side when we go to the others."

". . . Do they know?" he asked at last.

She looked down. ". . . Yugi guessed," she said. "It took a while, but then he was pretty sure. The others are pretty convinced now too. . . . I didn't tell any of them, but Joey realized that was the secret I've carried since that night. . . ."

"Don't they hate me?" Duke said. "I've deceived all of them for weeks. . . ."

Sadness passed through her eyes. "Tristan . . . he's taking it hard," she admitted. "He's in denial, actually. . . . He won't believe that you did that. And yet, othertimes he . . ." She went red. "He talks about beating you up. . . ."

"I expected that," Duke said.

"He really cares about you, Duke," Serenity hurried on. "He wouldn't be acting so strongly if he didn't. Joey's the same way."

A wry smirk came over Duke's features. "He wants to beat me up too?"

A small smile. "He threatens to do it," she said. "But I don't think he would, really. He might hit you in the face if he thought he could shock some sense back into you. . . ."

"As if my face isn't marred enough as it is," Duke said, forcing a bit of a lighter tone to his voice as he touched the fading scar where the bullet had torn across his cheek.

She stared at it. "Oh Duke. . . ."

"What about the others?" he asked, quickly changing the subject.

"Yugi, Téa, and Bakura are all hurt too, but . . . I think they understand more why you did what you did," Serenity said. "I do too . . . especially after . . ." The tears returned. "Mr. Tanaka's death. . . ."

She looked up at him in sorrow. "I feel responsible for what happened to him," she said.

Now Duke stiffened, alarmed and stunned. "You?!" he gasped. "Serenity, you weren't . . ."

"It was because of me that they learned who you were, wasn't it?" Serenity said softly. "And they came up with that plan to kill both you and Mr. Tanaka. . . ."

Duke looked away. "You've been reading too many tabloids," he said.

"Then why wouldn't you face me just now?" Serenity asked. "You know it's true."

He looked back. "It's because of _me,_ not you!" he said, his voice gaining an edge. "I saw you in danger and couldn't control myself. The thought of losing you . . . I . . . I couldn't just pull you out of the way and stay apathetic, like Otogi would have done. . . ."

"I should have taken your advice and called a cab," Serenity whispered.

Duke just stared at her in sickened horror. "I've been selfish again," he said. "And thoughtless. Serenity, I never thought . . ." He shook his head. "I should have thought . . . I should have _known_ you'd blame yourself. I was so caught up in my grief that I blamed myself completely, never really thinking how you might feel. . . ."

And it was then that he made a resolution. He was not the only one suffering with feelings of guilt. He could not stay away any longer now that he knew that.

He swallowed hard. "We both need to heal," he said. "And maybe together we could . . ."

She stared at him. "Do you mean it, Duke?" she asked. Her voice was hushed, as if she feared that raising it would make this miracle expire.

He nodded. "If you really want me back . . ."

"Of course I want you back!" she exclaimed. "All of us do. Even Tristan and Joey . . . or maybe especially them."

"Then let's go out to them." Duke reached for her hand, taking it in his own.

She nodded, a joyous smile lighting her features. Today, at last, were the fruits of the seeds she had prayed for over the past weeks.

Today there was hope.


	17. Time Always Reveals

**Notes: Thanks so much to everyone who's been interested, both the silent readers and the reviewers! It's exciting to have this story done; it's the longest thing I've written in some time, and definitely the thing with the highest word count that I think I've ever written. I hope you'll follow me into my next YGO ventures!**

**Epilogue**

**Time Always Reveals**

Duke took a last look in the mirror---his fifth in the past five minutes. For some reason, one of the brown contacts kept bothering him. But every time he went to adjust it, it seemed to be just fine. He could only attribute it to stress and nervousness.

He certainly had plenty of both. Once he came out of his office and went downstairs, he would be facing a press conference---one he had called himself, and only the second since he had taken on the guise of Ryuuji Otogi. But this would be a press conference unlike any he had ever given.

He turned away. He had to stop stalling and get down there.

He had requested for Yugi and the others to come. And though he was certain that some of them would be there, it was hard to know if Tristan would show up. Serenity had not been exaggerating about the other boy's anger. If anything, she had understated it.

He winced as the memory of their first conversation in weeks came back to his mind. To call it a "conversation" was laughable. That day, as soon as he and Serenity had approached the rest of the group waiting across the street at the Turtle Game Shop, Tristan's eyes had burned.

_"So it's true," he said darkly. "Yugi was right."_

_And before anyone could stop him, he lunged forward, delivering a punch that knocked Duke off his feet. The raven-haired boy sat down hard, crashing into the inside of the door._

_"Tristan!" Serenity cried in horror. She hurried over and knelt down by the dazed teen, laying a hand on his shoulder. "Duke, are you okay?"_

_He nodded, wiping the blood from the edge of his mouth. "I deserved that," he said. He pulled himself to his feet, gripping a nearby shelf for balance. Then he looked into Tristan's furious hazel eyes. "You can hit me again if you want."_

_"I want answers," Tristan retorted. "I want to know why."_

_Joey, who had come up next to Tristan in case he did try to hit Duke again, nodded. "We all do," he said._

_"I did it to protect you." Duke's gaze never wavered. "Everything I did . . . I was trying to protect you. I knew you'd hate me for it. I knew I was probably doing something unforgivable. But I did it anyway. I was willing to risk our friendships if I could keep you from being killed."_

_Bakura bit his lip, looking down. He had often felt helpless because of not being able to protect his friends. On some level, he could understand why Duke had done what he had. He did not think he would have been able to go through with it himself, had he been in the same position. He did have to admire Duke's courage._

_"Well, aren't you just so noble." Tristan's expression did not lighten. "Do you know what we went through? What __**Serenity**__ went through?! How could you do that to us?!"_

_Duke clenched a fist. "I was hurting too," he said. "Don't you dare think I wasn't."_

_"Yeah? Well, as far as I'm concerned, you didn't just risk this friendship. You terminated it." Tristan pushed past Duke, storming towards the door._

_"Tristan!" Yugi exclaimed._

_  
"Come on, at least hear him out before you leave in disgust," Joey said with a frown. He was clearly not happy, either. But at the moment he was more rational than Tristan._

_Serenity grabbed for the brunet's arm. "Please don't go," she begged. "Not like this!"_

_Tristan paused, looking to the girl he loved. "How can you even stand to be in the same room with him?" he asked. "Serenity, he's no good. He never was. He doesn't care about you, or me, or any of us!"_

_Duke visibly flinched. Téa laid a hand on his shoulder._

_"Tristan, that's not true," she said._

_Serenity shook her head. "If you just knew what he's been through . . . !"_

_  
"Oh, I guess he told you some sob story," Tristan said. He looked from her to Yugi, Joey, Téa, and Bakura. "Well, if you want to believe him, fine. But I'm through." And with that he pulled open the door, stalking onto the icy sidewalk._

_They all watched helplessly as Tristan climbed onto his motorcycle and rode away. Then Duke's shoulders slumped. "I can't believe you're not all treating me like that," he mumbled._

_Joey glowered at him. "It's gonna take a while before Tristan cools down," he said, crossing his arms. "He was actually starting to do better until Yugi put the pieces together and realized you were alive and deceiving us." But then he looked away. ". . . You did everything you could to save Serenity, though," he said. "You were right about the danger. Ma found our place trashed when she got home. So . . ." He looked back. "Thanks. For reaching out to her."_

_"I'm glad I could do something. Especially after all the trouble I've caused." Duke sighed. Even though he had expected Tristan's reaction, it hurt far worse to actually see it come true. He did not doubt that Tristan meant every word._

_"Tristan cares about you very much," Bakura spoke. "He will remember it . . . sooner or later. . . ." He shifted, uncomfortable._

_Serenity nodded. "This won't tear you apart," she said, but her voice was trembling. She could not bear to see two of her dearest friends at such odds with each other! And after seeing Tristan in such a state, she really was not sure at all that they would be able to mend things._

_"In the end, it'll make us all stronger," Yugi said._

_At last Duke nodded too. He did not really believe that, but they were trying to make him feel better---and maybe trying to convince themselves too. He would humor them._

_  
"You deserve to hear the whole story, though," he said._

_Téa looked at him in concern. "If it's still too painful . . ."_

_He shook his head. "No . . . I need to tell it," he said._

_Yugi nodded. "Come upstairs," he said. "I'll fix some hot chocolate and we'll talk."_

Duke came back to the present. He was messing with his contacts again. Now the left one had fallen out in his hand. Muttering, he turned back to the mirror. He had been wearing these in public for the most part, but they never stopped being a pain.

He and Tristan had barely spoken since that day. He had been trying to give Tristan some space, but several days ago he had sought the other out and tried to speak civilly. Tristan had not wanted to hear it.

_"After what you did, how can I trust anything you say?"_ he had said, his voice cold.

Duke really could not blame him. But that did not take away the pain and the hurt.

At last affixing the troublesome glass back into place, he left his office before he could be tempted to waste any more time. Then, with a last glance at David's vacant office, he headed down the stairs. Cameras flashed, half-blinding him. He squinted in annoyance, gazing beyond the bright beams to the podium. As he arrived, he looked out over the audience. Then he could only stare.

Veronica Travis and Mary Cart were there, having at last emerged, well and safe, from their place of hiding. Gabrielle Valesquez was standing with them; she was the officer they had gone to upon their return. And though Veronica had turned herself in as part of the smuggling ring, Gabrielle hoped to vindicate her due to her motives and her help in bringing down the ring. In any case, Gabrielle had brought them here before they would go to the station. Somehow they felt that this press conference would be significant. They, especially Veronica, wanted to be present.

Veronica smiled when she caught Duke's eye. Mary was more serious, but she allowed a slight smile---as did Gabrielle. Duke watched the previously-missing women, glad that they were alright. It was a weight off his mind. And their testimonies would be key in court.

Yugi and the others were in the back. Yugi smiled and nodded encouragement, seeming to sense Duke's nervousness. Téa gave him a thumbs-up, while Bakura smiled too and Joey crossed his arms and nodded. Serenity beamed at him.

His eyes widened slightly as he looked beyond them. Tristan had slipped in and was standing by the door. His expression was a storm cloud, but he was there. Duke had not expected to see him at all.

He looked back to the microphones on the podium. He could not postpone this any longer. Gesturing for silence, he began.

"I've called you here to discuss the future of this store," he said. "As you know, it was originally founded by Duke Devlin, who was killed months ago in a cruel and tragic explosion. I was named in his will as his successor." He took a deep breath, reaching into his pocket. "But . . . things aren't always what they seem."

A confused murmur went up as Duke took something out of his pocket, a murmur which quickly changed to gasps as he pulled his hair back in a ponytail, only leaving the shorter bangs free. Then he removed the contacts from his eyes, allowing their natural green to show. Cameras flashed, their owners anxious to capture this scoop.

He dared to look at the back of the room. Yugi and the others seemed surprised. Serenity was looking at him in admiration. Tristan raised his eyebrows a bit, but otherwise did not visibly react.

"Duke Devlin didn't die in that explosion," Duke said, letting his voice slip back into its normal tones. "He survived and came back to avenge what was done to him."

The reporters exploded into a flurry of questions all at once. Again he held up his hands for silence.

"For weeks, I was investigating a smuggling ring operating out of my store," he said. "I didn't go to the police because I'd found evidence that there was at least one dirty cop mixed up in the ring. I didn't know who, so I couldn't take any chances. Instead, I tried to solve the case on my own. After a while, though, I knew I was getting in too deep, so I came up with a plan."

He sighed. "I wrote a will, naming Ryuuji Otogi as my successor," he said. "It was an alias I'd used once before when I needed to go incognito in Japan. I'd saved it in case I'd need to use it again. And with the pressure on, I thought I'd probably need to disappear and fake my own death. I wasn't expecting the smugglers to try to get rid of me first."

Now he gripped the edges of the podium. "I almost died on the highway, as the witnesses can testify. But I didn't. I got out a split second before the car blew up. I fell down the hill and then escaped before anyone could realize the truth. It was safer to not let it be known that my enemies hadn't succeeded.

"I only let one person into my confidence, out of necessity---my store manager, David Tanaka. He helped me through every stage of my plan. It's because of his bravery that the American branch of the ring has been shut down." He could not keep his voice from going taut. He paused to get himself back under control.

Serenity never took her eyes from him. She clasped her hands, silently willing him the strength to go on. Tristan watched him too, his hazel eyes narrowing again.

At last Duke looked up. "Pretending to be someone else meant I couldn't show anything of my normal personality. I couldn't let my friends know anything or even suspect. It would have been too dangerous, for them as well as me. I had to be around them, watching them mourn me, without being able to let them know I was right there." He swallowed hard. "I had to do it, but I'm sorry for it." He looked right at Yugi and the rest, including Tristan. "I'm so sorry."

Tristan averted his gaze, gripping his arms. Duke looked from him to the others and then back at the reporters.

"I've lost more than one friend because of my quest," he said. "I've said and done things that I can't ever take back." He exhaled shakily, straightening up. "I'm not the Duke Devlin this city used to know. In fact, I've been wondering who I am at all. But . . ." He looked to Serenity. "I'm going to have faith that Duke Devlin is still alive, somewhere in my heart. That's why I won't be Ryuuji Otogi anymore. It's why I'm telling all of you the truth."

He paused. "It's also because I'm going to keep David Tanaka's memory alive. He would want me to take back my true identity. If I stayed Ryuuji Otogi, I would be making his sacrifice in vain. He helped me catch the smugglers so that I could return to the life I once had. And now he . . ." Duke shook his head, feeling his heart twist. "He can't do the same. So . . . I'm going to live for us both. That's all I can do for him now.

"I'm going to press on, taking the Black Crown game store with me into the future."

For a moment there was silence. Then, from the back of the room, Serenity began to clap. He looked to her, surprised. Soon others followed suit, and then the entire room was alive with the sound of applause. Even some of the reporters had joined in.

His gaze traveled over the crowd. Tristan, at the back, was still stubbornly clutching his arms. But then, to Duke's amazement, he let go. At first he hesitated. Then he brought his hands together once, twice, in a half-hearted gesture. As he lowered his arms to his sides, he caught Duke's eye. His expression was unreadable, but it was not burning with anger.

It was a start. And better than Duke had hoped for. He relaxed, giving Tristan a nod of acknowledgment.

_You did well, Dukey-boy. I'm proud of you._

Duke's eyes widened at the quiet, disembodied voice. Had he imagined it?

"David?" he whispered.

For the briefest moment, he was sure he caught a glimpse of his oldest friend standing in the crowd, applauding him too.

And for the first time in weeks, Duke Devlin smiled.


End file.
